Other Sins Only Speak
by clueless in seattle
Summary: Goren & Eames work together again. Sixth in series. Follows from "A Foreign Country"
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__All of the characters are the property of Dick Wolf. I thank him, the writers, the directors and all the great actors who brought them "to life" for our benefit. Any "liberties" I have taken with them is motivated only by my fond admiration. _

_**AN:**__ This story is not set entirely within the accepted "canon" or strictly within the "storyline" for the characters as it is only officially portrayed by the TV series._

_**I know I said "A Foreign Country" would **_**probably **_**be the last in this series but this idea has been rattling round in my head for a long time...and having separated Goren and Eames I thought I should bring them back together for one last time...**_**probably...maybe...**

_**OTHER SINS ONLY SPEAK**_

**Saturday 12****th**** December**

_**Vestry St, Soho, Manhattan**_

Alex Eames kicked off her shoes with a sigh of relief that went down her aching legs, through her sore feet and all the way to her toes which had been protesting their confinement for several hours

"It really was a lovely wedding wasn't it?"

She turned at a noise behind her to see Jack McCoy negotiating the doorpost with a little difficulty.

"Yesh it wash"

Alex watched him make two attempts to get hold of their apartment door handle wasn't unusually small or trying to escape down the hallway. It shut with the overloud bang so often occured when the person closing it was having a little difficulty with their hand/eye co-ordination and their balance. It was his own fault of course. Nobody was forcing that expensive single malt down his throat at the end. But he wasn't alone and his co-conspirators had included Danny Ross her former boss, the bride's father, who was after all paying for the whole thing and one of her brothers. Even Mike Logan had the sense to stop after one, but then he had Ellie with him and perhaps felt the need to set a paternal example.

"I'll make some coffee" she muttered leaving her fiancé befuddled at the bedroom door.

Saying _"Whersh my tie?"_ and raking through various pockets for the garment he'd removed some hours ago. She knew it was in her purse but she'd let him conclude he'd lost it and have the guilt trip because it was one she bought him. Before she told him.

In the kitchen, she set about making coffee as she looked back on the event which had sufficient elements of tradition to make it a_ "proper"_ wedding for two people doing it for the first time but was also very personal. Reflecting that neither of them were kids, that it was their solemn commitment not just a social occasion and the inclusion of a Catholic priest and a Rabbi as well as a Judge to do the legal part, covered most bases. Nor were the happy couple the first to _"do things backwards"_ as her own mother would say. Their six month old son sat with his Nanna sucking his fingers through most of the proceedings and only squawked once.

When the new Mr and Mrs Robert Goren turned to leave and he was maybe hoping for a little parental attention. He didn't get it for a while and Alex knew if he had his own way, her former partner would have had that ring on his finger and one on Caro's long before Joel was born. But she had always taken his now wife's side on that one. It was Bobby who proposed _"baby"_ before he formally proposed _"marriage"_ and the fact the first happened so quickly and before he got around to the second, was a consequence he'd had to live with. And only a man would struggle to understand why a woman might not want to look obviously pregnant on her wedding day or still be nursing his baby between the speeches and cutting the cake.

A series of noises from across the hall, including the sound of something, probably Jack, landing heavily on their bed told Alex a struggle of another sort was in progress. That of a man had too much to drink getting in a tangle with the furniture and his clothes. It was not like he did it that often and it they had not especially celebrated his re-election to the office of District Attorney a few weeks ago. A much wider margin this time was something of a vote of confidence but it had still meant several weeks for them both that were exhausting. Hardly seemed to see each other at all as between _"the day jobs"_ Jack was out giving speeches and she was acting as a part-time campaign worker. The only times they were together felt like the occasional breakfast and the limited number of campaign events she accompanied him to.

"Shtill didn't find my tie" Jack suddenly announced as Alex was musing on how nervous Bobby was as he took his vows.

Never did like speaking in front of large groups and the few months he had been instructing at the Academy did not seem to have cured that problem yet. She glanced at McCoy who could well have that sweater on back to front.

"Had trouble finding your zipper too by the looks of things" she observed turning to the coffee pot.

_**St. Luke's Place, Greenwich Village, Manhattan**_

Everyone involved had done their best to make their wedding day special but the wedding night was down to the two of you. Dr Caroline Goren, as she now had been for some hours, had already concluded the time and financial investment in suitable lingerie was worth it. Worth it for the look on Rob's face and doubly worth it for the way he'd finally divested her of it. Always was a quick study with most things but it was his lingering inventiveness she had enjoyed..._correction_...was enjoying the most. Only question now was for which of them the touching and teasing would become uncomfortable torment first.

The next kiss, the change in his breathing and a shift of his body half under hers suggested he'd reached that point. But just as he opened his mouth by her ear there was a sound from the monitor on the nightstand. Enough, even now to freeze them in time as they listened.

"I said we should have left him with my parents" she sighed.

"I know but he's gotten more cranky all day and..." Goren paused as Joel made an experimental kind of wail.

"His tooth or maybe just all out of routine?"

Caro waited for the second cry was more energetic.

"Like I care if they got no sleep with him all night?" she muttered.

In the silence that followed and hopeful once again, it was a case of _"as you were"_ with lips and fingertips.

Then Joel went into top gear. Full volume, insistent bawling you would not need a listening device to detect. You would hear him in the basement kitchen two floors below and with the TV on. As babies go he'd been pretty _"easy" _compared to some. Everyone told them so and they both knew by now that when he cried like that he genuinely needed something more than to hear the sound of his own voice.

"I'll go Caro"

She didn't argue as he half rolled off her, untangled himself from some item of lingerie, got out of bed and headed for the door with as much dignity as it's possible for a guy to muster in that situation. Correction...as much dignity as he is left able to muster. The few occasions it had happened before had proved his son crying like that had the same effect as a bucket of ice to Daddy's groin.

Caro found another piece of lingerie as she snuggled to keep warm.

"Typical" she said tossing it aside and as his father's presence in his room instantly silenced Joel.

She listened to Rob's voice quiet and soothing as he checked him out. Was like that for him nine times out of ten, whereas if she had gone, nine times out of ten their son would have continued yelling as if to punish Mommy for not be psychic to anticipate his needs or taking ten seconds too long to respond. He must have only been about three weeks old when that started. Got so if she was feeding him when Rob came home, he dare not say a word. Otherwise and no matter how hungry he seemed, Joel would just lose interest in nursing the moment he heard his voice. Until he had enough fuss from the hunter returned home or realised Daddy couldn't deal with the renewed rumbling in his tummy.

Sort of thing might make you resentful if Rob had not done his share of the messy end and dealt with as much of the night feed routine as nature permitted him. Often letting her sleep while he took Joel downstairs to heat milk and change a diaper. Caro always knew he'd deal with that side of things with that organised efficiency could be so irritating at times. But she knew his deepest concerns about parenting were never really about this stage. Trouble with being a psychologist she supposed.

The _"problem"_ if there turned out to be one, would come as Joel developed his own sense of self and his own personality began to evolve. That would be the time when Rob would need re-assurance he was getting it right more often than he was getting it wrong. And when Joel might need her to prevent his father from over-compensating for the chaos and insecurity of his own childhood.

She listened to the sound of bubbles being blown, cooing and babbling. And that was just Daddy.

**Sunday 13****th**** December**

_**Vestry Street**_

There were many things about Jack McCoy which Alex Eames loved but two of them were simple. When he was intoxicated, his almost certain to be futile attempts at ardour were brief before he fell asleep. And he was never grumpy and hung over the next day. Was up first and cooking breakfast as she was the one still in a bathrobe, unfocussed and yawning at the table.

"What was that?"

"I said" he turned from flipping pancakes "Now Bobby and Caro's wedding is over we should seriously think about dates for our own"

"I guess so"

"Don't sound so keen will you Al?" he growled

"It's not that Jack. It's how to do it. And if you give me a summary of the law in New York State I'll hit you with that pan"

"I won't" his tone was gentle "I get it. I really do. I've been there twice before, you once and even though you...you were not..."

She gave him a little smile "I was widowed Jack. It's okay to say the word. Same as we know you ended up in the divorce courts twice"

McCoy slid the pancakes onto the plates, picked them up and sat down.

"When really does depend on how I think" he reached for the maple syrup.

"Keep it as simple as possible and it could be before Christmas. Something like yesterday would take more time to organise. Any more than that and we would be talking months. Summertime even"

"I get the feeling you don't much care how it is Jack"

"Truth? No I don't, though I doubt you want all the bells and whistles"

Alex made an odd sound as she swallowed "No. Spring might be nice"

"That's a start anyhow"

_**St. Luke's Place**_

"...which means if you could get some leave at that time we could all go out to LA...maybe stay with Amy and John for a couple of days and then have some time just for ourselves...delayed honeymoon kind of..."

Goren glanced over at his wife strongly suspecting she had all this worked out the moment she received the programme for some national conference a few days ago. The trouble was he could find no fault with the idea and felt he ought to just punish her a little for falling asleep while he was dealing with Joel last night. He'd returned a little cold by then, with his half of the bed littered with items of a flimsy nature and her back turned firmly towards him.

"I might even be able to get some funding from Bellevue to cover some of my costs" she said trying to make the prospect more appealing.

"That's not really the issue Caro"

"So what is? There isn't one is there Rob?" her eyes narrowed "You're just sulking because I was asleep when you came back to bed"

"Am not" he was trying hard not to smile "But I may just file for an annulment tomorrow. Non consummation...ouch!"

He'd not seen the rubber duck coming or realised it was the end of the bath where she was perched on the edge. And with Joel sitting on his right thigh, his options for avoiding it were limited.

"Yes okay. It's a brilliant idea Caro. All your ideas are my love. Now take him so I can get out please"

"Aaaargh!" Goren howled for real this time.

As he went to pass the baby to her, Joel, who had already showed signs of inheriting his left handedness, used exactly that hand to grab hold of a part of him. With a grip both strong and determined in one so young.

"Oh dear Joel" said Caro as she swaddled their son in a warm towel

"Forget consummation. Do that too often to Daddy and you'll never have a brother or sister"

_**To be continued...**_

_**AN:**__It would take forever (or a lot of footnotes) to summarise how everyone reached this point in their lives or explain some characters who will re-appear from previous episodes but they were, in chronological order: "A Wide Open Country", "A Friend Of Mine", "Encore For Adrasteia", "Death's Eternal Cold, "A Foreign Country"._


	2. Chapter 2

**Monday 15****th**** February**

_**Jefferson Apartments, E. 93**__**rd**__** St, Manhattan**_

With some ducking and weaving and a couple of taps on the shoulder, Eames managed to get through the group of uniformed officers and a couple of local detectives who were spilling from the small lobby area and into the hallway.

She said nothing as Finn Tutuola finished briefing them on the door to door enquiries he wanted them to begin. The neighbours, at least those that were home, of the late occupant of apartment 6c.

As they began to disperse he realised that she was there.

"Lieutenant?"

The slight frown was understandable. There was no reason he was aware of that would have brought his boss to what looked like a routine crime scene. Inevitable he should be a little puzzled or maybe even wary.

"No problem Finn" she shrugged "Just wanted an excuse to get away from last month's overtime logs"

It was an outright lie and one he had no reason not to swallow.

"So what have we got?"

"Apartment's let to Lydia Giambi. Twenty six and works as the IT manager at _Gibbs & Hardy_. Was they called it in when she didn't arrive at work or respond to calls"

Tutuola paused, perhaps half expecting that Alex Eames was there because the girl worked for a firm of high profile defence attorneys. He was wrong.

"Is it her?" she nodded into the one bedroom apartment where she knew a dead woman was discovered.

"Yeah. Going by the informal ID of the building super let the uniforms in and her driver's licence we found in a purse"

"What else do we know?"

"Looks like asphyxia...Faith's with the ME's people and CSU. Probably with the pillow which was over her face when she was found and sometime over the weekend. We're just going..."

Eames nodded "Go ahead Finn. This is your case"

As she turned into the living room of the apartment she hoped that was sufficient reassurance for him she was not, in any way, checking up on an experienced officer who did not need her to tell him what to do at this stage of an investigation. More important to her, was that it got him out of the way so she could speak to Faith Dempsey.

The almost rookie detective she had been partnered with for six months at _Major Case_, was doing an initial exam of the body in partnership with the technician's from the Medical Examiner's office and CSU. Paused in the doorway of the bedroom she heard phrases like _"full lividity and consistent_" and _"still in partial rigor"._

Eames had never had great interest in the minute details of forensic pathology but knew enough to know their collective estimate of _"sometime Saturday or early Sunday"_ for an initial estimate of the time of death was probably right. More so, when Dempsey said something about messages on the answer machine from Sunday afternoon and evening.

She watched the younger woman cover the victim to the shoulders and wondered why she asked for a _Polaroid_ of the dead girl's face. A glance round the room told Eames a lot. The lamp on the nightstand closest to her position was knocked over, there was a dark stain on the carpet nearby and amongst the evidence already bagged, she could see a wine bottle. And what looked like the sort of underwear a girl might wear on a date.

Lydia Giambi might have gotten into a fight with her boyfriend or chosen the wrong man to go home with from a club on Valentine's weekend.

"Got the wrapper from a condom" said a guy in a CSU jacket emerging from the bathroom.

He was waving a small bag and carrying a larger one looked as if it contained the rest of the bathroom trash.

Before he added the words "Didn't hit pay dirt yet".

That meant he had not found a used rubber anywhere in the bedroom, the bathroom or trapped in the john. Though as Eames knew herself, _"sexual partner"_ did not always equate to _"killer"_.

"Ever heard of _burking_?" asked Dempsey thoughtfully of no-one in particular.

"Faith?"

She spoke to halt her detective's enthusiasm for any more _"on the spot"_ examination of evidence. Eames knew exactly where Dempsey had developed that tendency and who she _"caught it"_ from.

"Oh! Lieutenant"

Dempsey sounded surprised to see her. Which was illogical considering her earlier and mysterious call to SVU because she needed to see Eames urgently. A call she did not want Tutuola to know she made.

At a gesture from her Lieutenant, Dempsey whipped the _Polaroid_ from the photographer and followed her to the one corner of the living area not being dusted for prints or searched.

"So what's the problem Faith?"

The younger detective spoke softly "There isn't one...least I hope...when I was looking through the victim's wallet I came across this"

Using her back to block anyone's view, she removed from her pocket a small evidence bag and handed it to Eames. Inside was a square of paper. Pale green and headed with the name of _Gibbs & Hardy_, it looked like something they would use to pin a short note to a file or other papers. The only thing written on it was a name they both knew very well. And a telephone number Eames, if not Dempsey, knew was the home one to match the name.

She looked at Dempsey who almost spluttered "I'm sure that's not his writing"

"Either way" said Eames in a soft but stern voice.

"I know boss" Dempsey sighed "But this is why I wanted to speak to you and I can easily put this down to...a mistake later...log it in"

"I should hope so!" hissed Eames doing her best not to sound too sanguine about one of her squad being willing to by-pass the proper procedure with possible evidence in a murder case.

"Do you know where...over the weekend?"

"No I don't Faith!" snapped Eames. "All I know is you now dragged me into this with you"

"Yes ma'am"

Her freckles showed more on a face that had gone pale. In her heart Eames knew that was not Faith's intention. To ignore procedure, to by-pass her partner on this one and then to absolve herself from ultimate responsibility by dumping it all in her lap. Except that was the result of her actions. However understandable.

"Can we get this dame moved?" called a guy with a gurney.

"Go see to that Faith" said Eames.

Before adding "And leave that _Polaroid_ with me"

Eames turned away to look out of the window with its view of the East River. Wondering how much more you paid for apartments which faced this way in the building. She glanced briefly at the face of Lydia Giambi in the picture. Dead, probably smothered since there were no signs of manual or ligature strangulation on the fish white skin of her neck. Dead before her time and unless the tox screen or the PM showed something unexpected, almost certainly murdered. Another young woman picked the wrong guy.

Her problem now was that Lydia Giambi had a piece of paper in her purse containing the name and number of fellow cop. And not just any cop. The name and home phone of the detective with whom Dempsey had been partnered when Eames herself was promoted and transferred to SVU. The cop who was responsible for _"infecting"_ her with some of his own enthusiasm and attention to detail at a crime scene.

"Oh Bobby" she breathed to herself. "What the hell is..."

Eames cut off the thought, slipping the picture and the paper with _"Robert Goren"_ written on it, into her pocket.

_**To be continued...**_


	3. Chapter 3

_**N. Y. C Police Academy, 235 E. 20**__**th**__** St, Manhattan.**_

Eames almost yelped as she entered the room after a brief knock.

Her former partner was standing with his right arm around the neck of a smaller black guy. She'd come from a probable death by asphyxia to find him apparently chocking the life out of another human being.

Every available surface in the room seemed to be covered by photographs of dead people and a dozen faces turned from the scene at the front or the papers before them.

"Sir?" said one hesitantly.

"SIR!" a second voice was more insistent.

Goren finally seemed to recall it was him they were speaking to as he stopped expounding on _"hypoxia" _and half turned towards the door. Half dragging his _"victim"_ with him held firmly between forearm and bicep. Eames saw Goren's brain change gear. Releasing his captive with a murmur of _"thanks_" and greeting her with that look of mild bewilderment she had come to know so well.

"Hi Alex...I mean...Lieutenant"

"Could I have a word with you Detective Goren?"

She saw him blink at the formality and the tone before he said "Sure".

"Um...while I'm...um...carry on with the PM reports. Look for similarities but also differences"

As Goren shut the door behind them she tried to lighten the mood a little.

"What case are you looking at?"

"_Hillside Stranglers_"

"Detective...Bobby...I'm sorry to interrupt but something came up and..."

"Go on"

It was said mildly enough but Eames knew her earlier words and the way she said them had put Goren on his guard, if not the defensive. He'd skated on enough professional thin ice in his time and come close a few years back to falling right through it. There was no reason for her to be chewing him out given their current assignments and from what she had gathered unofficially, Goren was doing a good job at the Academy.

"Okay. Do you know anyone who works at Gibbs and Hardy?"

"Andrew Hardy" was the immediate reply "Defended one of the last cases I worked at Major Case"

"Anyone else?"

"He had about five second chairs with him. Don't remember their names though. And why don't you just cut to the chase Eames?"

She had never expected great deference to her rank from anyone, least of all Goren and the occasions when it was expected of him, it was almost embarrassing for them both.

"Alright then. Do you know a young woman called Lydia Giambi?"

"No"

"You're sure?"

Goren's head snapped back like he'd been slapped and his voice was cold "I am not acquainted with anyone who goes by that name"

Eames had often suspected her former partner would do a great job as a defence attorney. She reached in her pocket for the picture and held it out. Pulling her hand back to stop him actually touching it.

"Do you know this face?"

Goren studied the picture for a long moment. Did not need her to tell him he was looking at the face and into the eyes of a dead girl.

"No. I don't recognise her. Perhaps if you told me a little more I might recall her from somewhere"

"She was found, probably suffocated, at her apartment on East 93rd this morning"

Goren shrugged "I can't remember the last time I was on that street, I assume she worked at Gibbs & Hardy and I can assure you I've never been to their offices. Was she one of the junior attorneys at that trial?"

"No" Eames shook her head and took a deep breath.

"Where were you over the weekend Goren? Specifically Saturday night"

"I was not suffocating Lydia Giambi at any time during the weekend Lieutenant Eames. Saturday night...all day Saturday in fact...I was with my wife and son"

Before Eames could speak he went on.

"Now Joel is far too young to verify that of course. And we both know wives are not unknown to lie for their husbands but you're welcome to call Caro. Use my phone if you want. She's at home"

Eames sighed "That won't be necessary..."

"You could have fooled me"

"I'm sorry Bobby"

"So what you brought you here?" he asked offering her no measure of forgiveness in words or demeanour.

"This" she showed him the other bag "Dempsey found it in the victim's purse when she was looking to confirm ID"

"Which means both of you are now withholding evidence"

"Oh save the BS!" Eames snapped "Keep it for your students in there"

Goren shoved his hands in his pockets and paced a step or two away and then back.

"I have no idea how she came by that. I have not been giving any of my numbers to strangers in bars or anywhere else...and even if I was thinking of playing away...do you really think I'd be so dumb as to give a woman my home one?"

It had never seriously crossed her mind that Goren was _"fooling around"_. But the moment Dempsey found that piece of paper certain questions had to be asked. The problem for Eames was that she was fast concluding she maybe was not the _"best person"_ to do it after all.

"Not really... I mean no of course not..." Goren's laugh cut her off.

"Come on Alex" he smiled "We both know there's no such thing as impossible in this job. And a million ways someone might have given this woman my number...though why is even more interesting..."

"It's almost certainly irrelevant to her death"

"Hmm" he mused scratching the back of his head "Giambi? Giambi? There was a Tony Giambi at High School with me...not related to Jeremy or Jason is she?"

"Not that we know" Eames said quickly before her former partner got sidetracked onto baseball.

"There was a...sure it was ...give me a moment... an Irene lived the floor below me in Brooklyn...second month I was there my sink overflowed and it went through...how I met her...yes...her family name was Giambi"

Eames rolled her eyes preferring not to ask what Goren had been doing to allow his kitchen to flood through the ceiling of his neighbour.

"Does this...Mrs Giambi...who we don't even know is related to Lydia...have your number?" she asked impatiently.

"Give me a break here Eames! I was up to my neck in _Bianchi and Buono_ when you dropped by to interrogate me and no...I did not give my new number to Mrs Giambi...who must be close to eighty now. But I did leave it with the Johnsons next door and Vic"

Eames had met the Johnson's once or twice and knew _"Vic"_ was the super at Goren's old residence.

"Does your victim come from Troy originally?"

"I have no idea Goren. Why?"

"Because Mrs Giambi had a son who had moved to Troy and he had two daughters would be about this girl's age. Of course there are probably a thousand Giambi's in the New York directory"

"I'll let you know" shrugged Eames "And get back to class"

"Okay. And by the way" Goren added "Your victim...those bruises...knees...somebody probably sat on her abdomen...constricts the lungs...known as _burking _which is..."

Eames smiled "I think a Goren explanation from long ago is coming back to me...parts of it anyway"

"One of those times you must have been listening while doing a good job of pretending not to Eames"

"Could be...and again...I'm sorry Bobby"

"Forget it"

As she turned away and rounded the corner, Eames hoped that she could and that he would. With his professional head on Goren knew full well it was something, someone in SVU would have had to follow up. He would not have hesitated over _"professional courtesies_" if it were it his case. And if nothing else it had confirmed her suspicions about how Dempsey knew the term _"burking"._

Those days of Goren explanations and esoteric facts seemed such a long time ago now.

Goren waited for a moment. If he could set his mild indignation to one side he knew he would not forget it very quickly. Indignation spoke to a defensiveness in his character he thought he was mostly over these days. But he was, to say the least, curious. _How did this dead woman come to have a number neither he nor Caro gave out all over town? _ A curiosity that had served him well in the past, it was now his job to instil into his students.

"Where were we?" he asked stepping through the door.

"You were choking Quaid" said someone helpfully.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN :** Sitting/kneeling on their victims and leaving characteristic bruises was a feature of the murders committed by two Irishmen. William Burke and William Hare killed 17 people in Edinburgh (Scotland) during 1827/28. It speeds the process of suffocation as well as helping to control a struggling victim. Their motive? To sell corpses as fresh as possible to the local medical school for dissection.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Special Victims Unit, Manhattan**_

The moment Eames learned that Lydia Giambi's parents were coming in from Troy to identify her body formally; she did three things in fairly rapid succession. Firstly she established that the Mrs Giambi in Goren's old apartment building was related. The late Irene, as it turned out, was indeed the grandmother of the victim. Secondly she came clean, or as clean as her rank required her to be, with Finn Tutuola.

She had not expected prissy self righteousness from him on the less than _"by the book"_ way she and Dempsey had dealt with that piece of green paper so far. And she did not get it. All she did get was a hint of incredulity from Tutuola that she just might, for a fraction, have treated Bobby Goren as at very least a material witness in a homicide. But then Finn and Goren had been partnered for a while when they worked _Narco _and Eames had a strong suspicion had he done the search of the victim's purse, Tutuola would have done much the same as Faith. It was down to the two of them to work through any issue of _"mistrust_" that might have been stirred up by Dempsey leaving him out of the loop initially.

And lastly, in order to lock the door on any suggestion she did not follow through on some kind of link between the victim and her former partner, she got hold of Vic Rodriguez and then sent John Munch to speak with him.

As the only member of the family left resident in the city, it seemed that Lydia had taken on the job of packing up and clearing out her grandmother's apartment. A task the amiable Vic had helped her with at times. Loading boxes of mementoes and some items of small furniture left to various family members into a _U Haul _van_._

Munch paused in his telling of the story, well aware his boss was anxious to know how Robert Goren's number came into the young lady's possession.

"Lydia made several trips to the storage facility over the course of the weekend after the funeral" he continued.

"When she came back for the last time and to drop off the keys, she told Rodriguez of something hinky she saw and overheard at the storage place"

Eames checked her notes from an earlier briefing "_SafeNSure _on Remsen Avenue?"

"So Finn told me a while ago, but Vic did not know for sure"

"They found papers for a unit there and a key in her desk at the apartment" Eames confirmed.

"According to Vic, Lydia said there were some dubious looking men unloading a small truck with TVs and DVD machines into a unit close to hers" Munch continued.

"Or boxes that once held such things" Eames countered.

"Could be" agreed Munch "And I have no idea if Lydia Giambi was an overly suspicious or a paranoid personality"

Eames stifled a smile at that comment.

"But according to Vic she said something about one of the storage facility employees being very keen to help these men. When he had watched with his arms folded while she and a friend struggled with a dresser"

"Any idea who the friend was?"

"Some young guy from her work but apparently she was alone for the trip when she saw these men"

"And...suspecting they might have been handling stolen goods...instead of calling the local cops or reporting it to the owner of the self storage warehouse, Lydia asks Vic for the name of any detective he knows?"

Munch shrugged at the caustic tone of his Lieutenant's voice.

"Not exactly. It was over a week later Lydia called Vic. She remembered her Grandma saying there was a cop who worked at Headquarters in her building. Vic gave her Goren's number on Friday and while she didn't say outright, Rodriguez got the impression it was still something at _SafeNSure _that was bugging her"

"You want to run with that theory John?" asked Eames mildly "Lydia stumbles on a gang of burglars or hi-jackers and gets killed before she can report it to the cops"

"I'm wondering if she tried to go via Goren when she got no response at the 69th Precinct"

"You know that happened?"

"No" said Munch sliding some paper onto her desk "But I have found out that the owner of _SafeNSure _is one Dan Fulton"

"You know I don't like to be teased Munch" Eames muttered.

"Dan Fulton is the brother in law of Captain Dacre"

"Shit"

"That about sums it up" said Munch as he stood up "Anything else?"

"Not right now. Thanks John"

Eames wondered if the growling and cramping in her belly was down to the dubious tasting mayo on her lunchtime sandwich or the information Munch shared with her.

Eric Dacre ran the SV unit in Brooklyn, which also operated out of the 69th Precinct building. Goren might be linked into this by sheer co-incidence but things had just got a whole lot worse.

And she still had to finish the overtime logs before she went home.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren was emptying the washer of mostly Joel's clothes when the phone rang. He went to answer with a pair of pants in his hands that were almost worn through at the knees. It was not the only unwelcome side effect of him starting to crawl. Another was not being able to let him out of your sight for a moment for fear of what he would get hold of, what danger he would start to investigate or what he would try pulling himself up on.

Paternal pride took a hit when you realised he'd discovered another way of needing new things or making them dirty quicker. And they'd had a fractious evening before bedtime when Joel screamed his refusal to stay in his chair or the playpen so Daddy could finish his own dinner. Or do any of the list of things Caro always seemed able to leave for him before she rushed off to Bellevue.

Vic Rodriguez announced himself and began a litany of profuse apology in a mixture of Spanish and English. It explained the incomprehensible message from Caro as she went out of the door and was not, after his conversation with Eames, a total surprise. At the conclusion, he assumed that his former partner would consider any unwitting _"part"_ he had played in this case to be over. Though it was always possible something she saw at that storage facility was what got Lydia Giambi killed.

"Uh...what?"

Goren woke with a start at the sensation of fingers running through his hair. A very guilty start because he'd fallen asleep on the sofa. A guilt that was lessened when a glance confirmed it must only have been for a few moments.

"Busy day?" asked Caro somewhat archly as she made for the coffee pot in the kitchen.

"Not until Joel decided he needed to complete a marathon before bedtime"

"Sorry about that" she shrugged "I did let him nap longer than usual this afternoon"

"Doesn't matter" Goren sighed as she curled up beside him.

Times he was tempted to complain, he reminded himself that on most weekdays Caro was taking care of Joel before heading for her job as a clinical psychologist. Part time sessions to fit around family life and many of them in the evenings dealing with an array of _"walk ins_" and the urgent referrals made by ER departments and not a few came via NYPD.

"I was almost accused of asphyxiating a woman today"

"Did you do it?"

"No but I understand the temptation more than I once did" he growled before adding "Especially when I didn't get a Valentine's present"

"We agreed not to get them!" yelped Caro.

"I agreed because I had no intention of sticking to the deal. I never expected you to hold to it" he retorted loftily.

"And they say the minds of women are strange" Caro muttered "And stop pretending to sulk Rob. It doesn't suit you and you don't do it very well. Any better than you cleared up this place"

"There are several, very good reasons for that"

"Oh yeah? Starting with?"

Whatever the minds of women were like and this one in particular, she did _"scepticism"_ better than any he had known.

"Five minutes after he gets up in the morning Joel will have his toys all over the floor again"

"True"

As she spoke she slid from under his arm, set the remnants of her coffee aside and stood up.

"You going to bed Caro?"

"Uhuh. I just thought of one late Valentine's gift you might enjoy"

"Really!"

_Damn it! That sounded far too keen and needy._

"Really?" he tried to say more casually and hoping she had not heard the first time "So what's that?"

She began to climb the stairs from the basement living area.

"Think about it Rob" her voice came from above "Same time you are thinking of all the other really good reasons for the mess down there"

Goren shook his head. Trying to remember just when that woman got him exactly where she wanted him.

_**To be continued...**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Tuesday 16****th**** February**

_**ER Break Room, New York Presbyterian Hospital, Manhattan**_

Doctor Tyler looked weary after a long night shift. He swirled the coffee in the paper cup to get the hot water to mix better with the sludge at the bottom.

"I know you're not supposed to speak ill of the dead...and I'm sorry she is...but Lydia was a bit of a bunny boiler...you know?"

"She...pursued you after you broke up in November?" asked Tutuola.

"It was end of September" corrected the medic and demonstrating to the detective if he was lying about that he was sticking to the story.

"Afterwards she would call maybe twice a week...mostly leaving messages on my machine"

"You're saying she stalked you?"

"Wouldn't call it that. Found it hard to let go...and hey man...when a guy breaks up with a girl he's not usually interested in staying friends and talking regularly...now is he?"

Tutuola could see that, though it did fit with what Tyler had already told him about the number of times Lydia Giambi called, texted or e-mailed the doctor during their two month relationship. One she seemed to want to make more committed and serious much faster than he did and the reason he gave for them splitting.

"When did you speak to her last?"

"Around Thanksgiving" yawned the younger man "Wanted me to go with her to some wedding at work...no it was a bar mitzvah. Said no. The way she was...and I'd just started to date my current girlfriend. Never heard from Lydia after that"

Finn left the doctor to complete some reports. He was inclined to believe the story told him by the last known _"boyfriend"_ of the victim. At least the last one her parents and a couple of her work colleagues could put a full name and occupation to.

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Manhattan**_

John Munch sat back with his arms folded and waited. Waited for two of Lydia's female co-workers from _"Gibbs & Hardy"_ to finish discussing some other water cooler gossip from the firm and get back on track. So far all he had gleaned was that the victim was seeing someone she referred to as _"James"_. Family name and occupation unknown which was apparently unusual for Lydia.

The redhead had described Lydia as _"intense"_ about her previous relationships. Knew she called or texted a guy often during the day and would share details about him or a date down to the names of his parents or every track played at a club. _"James_", assuming he was not a figment of her imagination, was very different.

Like _"getting blood from a stone"_ to get any information from her about him, though they were sure she had been seeing him since before Christmas. They expected her to bring him to the office party but he did not show and neither did she.

"I'm sure Dawn said Lydia met him at Mr Gold's bar mitzvah"

"His son's bar mitzvah" corrected the blond.

Munch knew Gold was the firm's Chief Accounting Officer.

"Did either of you go to the affair?" he asked.

"Oh no" said the redhead "He only invited the senior people...like poor Lydia"

"You know Tory?" said the blonde to her friend "I sometimes wondered...all the secrecy I mean...if this James is a married man?"

She might come across as having more streaks in her hair than brain cells, but the young lady's observation fit with an idea had already crossed their minds. CSU had found nothing on the victim's computer at work or home, or on phone records, to indicate regular communication with a man. Nothing that could not be explained as being in the course of work or the day to day of anyone's domestic life. Like a plumber or a salesman for a software company.

Munch steeled himself "So who is this Dawn you mentioned?"

_**Interview Room 1, SVU**_

Eames watched the interview with Andrew Hardy from behind the one way, content to let Faith conduct it with the instruction to keep it low key. Captain Cragen was with her in the unlikely event she did not follow orders and to afford Hardy some fake reverence to his position in the legal community.

CSU had turned up only one set of prints in Lydia's apartment that popped on the system. Those of Andrew Hardy who had managed to keep a DUI a couple of years back a well hidden secret. But men like him could, as Eames knew only too well.

When he was asked the question if he had ever been to the victim's apartment, he was either being very honest or very shrewd when he said he had. Once, about a month ago. A Saturday afternoon when his laptop went on the _"fritz"_ in the middle of writing an important closing argument. Lydia agreed to do him a favour and fix it for him. Was there perhaps half an hour.

And since his prints had been found on the window ledge in the living room, Eames knew it was possible he had stood where she had looking out over the East River yesterday. Nor did he hesitate to agree to give them a DNA sample for elimination purposes. Perhaps it was how politely Dempsey asked the question, but Eames would stick next month's pay on Hardy not being a match for the one male hair found in the bed of the victim.

_**The Captain's Office, SVU**_

Eames had hated having to run the situation with this _"SafeNSure"_ place by Cragen first, but she knew she had to. There was an unwritten procedure when it was possible cops or their close relatives might have some link to a crime. A polite waltz through the higher ranks of the force to _"pave the way"_ for the mere foot soldiers in uniform or the bullpen. A dance which in the past and sadly, sometimes today, allowed genuine irregularities to go unchallenged. And occasionally outright corruption to go undiscovered.

But Cragen was a straight arrow, the kind to leave feathers unruffled when he did it and unlike her previous boss, Danny Ross, Eames guessed he did not have one eye over his shoulder for his next promotion.

"Turns out Lydia Giambi did make a report to the 69th Precinct about what she saw at the storage facility" the Captain began.

"How much of a problem that will turn out to be for the detective who sat on the report will depend on whether this is linked in any way to the murder"

"To early to say Captain but with little sign of a struggle in the apartment, no reports from the neighbours of a fight and the ME saying the sex would seem to be consensual, it looks more and more like a domestic gone wrong"

"Tox screen was clear then?"

"Only enough alcohol to be consistent with a glass or two of wine and chances are, if her visitor had one of them, he washed and wiped the glass. Same as he made sure the condom was not left around for DNA" she waited a moment.

"And do we run with the warehouse or not?"

Cragen gave a look of disapproval that she would think a lead, however tenuous, would be allowed to get away from them.

"Yes Alex. The Chief of D's has had a few words..."

"With people whose names I don't want to know"

He smiled faintly "I didn't think you would. But it's all fixed for a team from _Organised Crime_ to go in with the owner's co-operation. Pick one of ours to go along for the ride"

Eames nodded "Maybe we'll find something in Lydia's storage unit will give us a lead on this mysterious boyfriend"

As she stood up to leave Cragen stopped her "You okay Alex? Seem a little...distracted maybe?"

"Just a screw up with the catering" she lied.

_**To be continued...**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Office of The Chief of Detectives, One Police Plaza**_

Dick Nichols glanced across his conference table at Danny Ross.

"Give any thought yet to what we discussed last time?"

"Some but there's only four fit the criteria you...we agreed"

Ross did not see Nichols react to the almost slip he made. The discussion had not been heated, but they had started from opposite ends of the spectrum and in the end he knew he'd more or less been told as much as persuaded.

"I made it three Danny. I assume you've got Mike Logan on the list?"

Ross nodded and sat back on in the chair "Yes. He meets the criteria and I knew there could be a problem, but surely he's done enough with _Major Case_ to..."

Nichol's sigh cut him off "I agree Danny and if it were some out of the way precinct...but it is _Major Case_...if I thought I could swing it...and do you think he'd want it anyway?"

"Who can tell with Mike?" shrugged Ross who had always known Mike was an extreme outsider.

And maybe, one day, the unseen forces would disappear and Logan be forgiven finally for that indiscretion from years ago.

"Then there's Mac Oliver" he went on "Trouble with him? He's an ambitious and cocky little shit"

Nichols laughed "And there's only room for one of those on the eleventh floor I take it?

Danny Ross knew when to be self deprecating "I do consider that post filled but don't get me wrong... I don't have a real problem with him myself"

"Okay leave him on the table. I assume Tom Lane is on your list?"

"Uhuh. Trouble is he's only got three to go"

"That could be a good idea. Steady hand, won't be bucking for your job and if the worst comes to the worst and it doesn't work out..."

"Yeah... but Tom is...is really too old school"

"Take your word for it. We'll consider him out for now. Which only leaves Bobby Goren"

Ross waited a long time before he spoke. He was sure Tom Lane would have been top of Nichol's list. If they were keeping score they were about even for now. And he wanted to make a considered response to the remaining name on his own list

"Three years ago we would both have had a heart attack at the very thought. And I won't deny it still gives me palpitations but..."

"But if we stick to the idea of keeping it in house, Bobby is by far the front runner. In every which way"

"Most of them"

"You don't sound convinced Danny"

"May not be me needs the most convincing boss. From what I hear..."

"Sorry Chief" said his secretary as she poked her head round the door.

"I've got Lieutenant Braun on the line...from Brooklyn?"

"Sorry Danny" Nichols gestured for him to stay where he was while he took the call.

_**Bridal Dreams, 75 West 29**__**th**__** Street, Manhattan**_

"We'll just reduce the ruffling round the neckline a little..."

"We'll reduce it a lot" muttered Eames "Like we agreed"

She'd taken an hour of personal time for this fitting for her gown and it was turning out to be worse than root canal work. If it were not for the fact she'd hate it, she was sorely tempted give up and let them do their worst. The tailor sighed and inspected his manicure at every comment from her and the fitter pouted.

Eames smoothed the front panel of the cream silk taffeta and tried to improve the situation by saying one positive thing.

"I like the way this falls from the bodice"

"I thed you would" lisped the tailor.

She decided not to point out his original idea was to have it just under her boobs and even suggest he could fit it with padding to make them look bigger. So the neckline went up and the bodice went down.

She turned sideways and looked in the mirror "It's too full at the back...makes my ass look like the entrance to the Holland Tunnel"

That fitter pouted again "We did that because we thought we would let that fall out into a train"

"And we agreed there would be no train" she said firmly.

"You don't want to look like the mother of the bride Mith Eamth"

"Since I'm almost old enough to be that and to know my own mind, we'll just...lose some of this...shall we Jean-Paul?"

He tossed his head like a sulky cheerleader. Eames was beginning to doubt the wisdom of coming to this place, even if Caro had warned her you needed to know what you wanted and be able to stick to it. Her dress had been perfect but you couldn't just duplicate what someone else wore.

Her cell phone began to chirp.

"Careful!" squawked the fitter as she grabbed hold of fabric to move across the room without tripping.

They had still to fight the battle over the final length, but as it was Tutuola, she took the call.

Jean-Paul and the fitter took themselves off to fuss with a semi constructed gown on a dummy in the corner. Eames could not help as she said _"Hi Finn"_ to think of the intended wearer as more their victim than a customer.

_**Office Of The Captain, SVU, Manhattan**_

Clearing his desk and reaching for his jacket, Cragen concluded things might have been worse. Braun and his team had not turned up any TV's or DVD players hidden away at the place in Brooklyn. That did not prove Lydia Giambi wrong or that she imagined things. It just meant they had already found their way along the supply chain for stolen goods.

But what they had turned up, was a locker containing more cell phones and other personal electronic items than any individual might own. All in their boxes and fitting the description for the load of a delivery truck hijacked in Queens a couple of weeks ago. The surprise and anger of Fulton, the owner, was according to Braun genuine and there had been no difficulty in identifying a prime suspect as the "_inside man"._

The guy who could get his confederates access to an empty unit and at the same time make it seem like it was genuinely let. The record of Dwight Jones was for fairly trivial offences and mostly as a juvenile. But his cousin had a history included robbery and he ran on the fringes of a local neighbourhood gang. It would be down to Braun and his crew to make the case with Jones and round up the rest if they could.

Finn and Munch had struck out in the unit that Lydia Giambi had rented to store her grandmother's things. No trace of this boyfriend called _"James"_ who may not exist and no evidence of anything else that might give someone motive to kill her. He could understand Tutuola's frustration at most of an afternoon spent looking through an old lady's photograph albums or helping Munch repack ornaments destined for someone in the family.

Fulton had been co-operative and even swore he was going to get someone over from his other place in Queens to check all the other units for illicit items Jones may or may not have conspired to hide. Most important for Cragen and his opposite number in _Organised Crime_?

Neither had received irate calls from Captain Dacre to complain at the treatment of his wife's brother.

_**To be continued...**_


	7. Chapter 7

**Wednesday 16****th**** February**

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Manhattan**_

Eames found it bizarre that their search for the killer of Lydia Giambi might now rest on the guest list for a bar mitzvah held three months ago. With no hits from the hair on the DNA database, no one who knew anything about this _"James" _and no surveillance footage from the apartment block, they were now relying on Manny Gold.

Or rather the sentimental foresight of Mrs Gold who had made up a sumptuous album as a keepsake for Joshua. Containing as well as many photographs, items like the seating plan, the cards of congratulation and the _"autographs" _of all the attendees.

So far the only _James_ that Gold had come up with, were one friend of his son and an octogenarian relative on his wife's side of the family.

"What about waiters?" asked Tutuola wearily.

"Ours was called Gino" shrugged Gold

"The leader of the band?" suggested Finn "What about the events manager at the hotel? Someone involved with the limo company?"

Gold shrugged "I can give you names. I guess you could check out their list of employees. But you really can't expect me to know everyone a minor guest like Lydia might have come into contact with that day"

"Yes I realise that Mr Gold" acknowledged Eames "And we appreciate the trouble you are going to. Were there other functions taking place at the same time...perhaps she met someone on the way to the powder room or...or..."

"There were" said Gold emphatically "We almost had to bribe them to be sure of getting the _Hudson Room_ they were holding for someone else. And there was some kind of stag party in one of the smaller rooms...um..."

He flushed a little pink at the memory "Some rather...low rent...I hesitate to call them ladies...women...more or less burst through the door as some guests with younger children were leaving"

"That's helpful sir" said Tutuola in his most encouraging tone.

"I wonder" he went on "Some of the men in the background of these pictures in the lobby? Could you pick out those who were not invited guests at your party?"

"I'll try"

Gold took off his spectacles to give them a polish.

Eames and Finn glanced at one another. They were not dead in the water yet.

"I'll...um...and order you up some coffee" she said as she rose to her feet.

Eames knew she was consigning Finn to more frustration and tedium while she got the ball rolling with the hotel.

As she stepped outside a rather shocked looking Cragen met her.

"Oh good Alex. I just took a call from an hysterical Dan Fulton"

"He found a load of microwave ovens" she joked.

"I wish he had" he sighed "He's found what he thinks is a kid's body...like _one of those mummies_ were his exact words. Over and over"

"What?" Eames gasped.

"He was too upset, feeling too sick to make much sense but the local precinct is sending a car and arranging backup"

He glanced at her.

"You know we have to handle it in the circumstances"

"Yes I do boss" she frowned "Is John available?"

"Bringing the car round now"

As she hurried back to the Squad Room for her coat and other things, Cragen called after her to expect a call from him or someone with some more details as soon as they could establish them.

_**Linden Boulevard, Brooklyn**_

Detective John Munch glanced in the rear view of the _Chevy Malibu_ as he turned the corner into Remsen. The small black truck which had fallen in behind them a few blocks away was still there. He'd bet the cream cheese bagel he'd had to abandon on his desk at Manhattan SVU, that it would turn out to be one of those used by the local ME.

"_Yes sir...I see...sure I understand...of course...yes I will...goodbye" _

Lieutenant Alex Eames ended the call on her cell with a mutter of "shit".

Munch knew who the call was from.

"Did the Chief of Detectives also tell you Captain Dacre is one of his golfing buddies?" he asked casually.

Eames glanced over at Munch. One of his more annoying tendencies was to pass on gossip or maybe start it, about the familial, social and sometimes sexual connections between astonishing numbers of officers in NYPD. The _most _annoying part was that John turned out to be right about ninety percent of the time. And Eames could never bring herself to ask about his sources for fear of what the answer might be.

"Strangely enough he didn't" Eames muttered "I guess that means we shouldn't upset this Don Fulton in case his brother in law drops out of a foursome on Sunday"

"Dan" said Munch as he slowed in front of the _Safe'N'Sure _storage facility.

"What?" asked Eames flashing her badge to uniform blocking the entrance to the gates.

"The owner of this joint is Dan Fulton"

"Huh" responded Eames.

With real luck, what had been described as a _"mummy" _would turn out to be an adult, they could kick it back to the local 69th Precinct and Eames could forget about the marital and sporting complications. She had other things on her mind right now.

_**Safe'N'Sure Storage, Remsen Avenue, Brooklyn**_

Munch heard his boss mutter something else as she exited the vehicle and knew it had nothing to do with the ME's van which had pulled in with them and maybe too close to the passenger side for comfort. As she was edging between, he'd already seen what had taken her attention over the parking lot.

It was not crowded with two patrol cars, the CSU truck, a small _U Haul_ and vehicles which might belong to employees or customers, one or two of whom were getting irate about not being allowed to get to storage units they had rented. But parked across the lines of parking spaces, not between them, was a mini-van with _"Police Academy"_ emblazoned down the side. Standing at the front, at least a head taller than the others in the group was Robert Goren.

"Looks like someone arranged a _Major Case_ re-union" observed Munch.

"We'll see about that" said Eames softly.

She ignored the uniformed sergeant who had been told to expect them and as he stopped to speak with the guy, Munch saw a couple of wisps of her breath in the cold of the February morning.

John Munch didn't know Goren well enough to be certain that was a look of nervous apprehension on his face. But he would bet the second bagel on it.

"Detective Goren" said Eames as he stepped between his five apprehensive companions.

"Ma'am" he nodded.

"I'd like to...aargh!"

Eames used the moment Goren half turned to do the introductions, to grab hold of the sleeve of his overcoat and pull hard and to the right. He might be a foot taller and many pounds heavier, but caught in that moment of imbalance she swung him round. Helped by the slippery surface of the lot left by a light fall of snow at the weekend.

"Cut out the formality Bobby" Eames hissed. "What the hell are you doing here with a bunch of rookies?"

Goren recovered his feet and a modicum of his composure. But he still had something of that look Eames got to know so well. That _"guilty third grader"_ he'd never seemed to grow out of whilst growing in other directions.

"We were over at the 69th. At SVU...for um...an orientation thing...when the call about this came in..." he trailed off.

"And?" she demanded with that tone of incredulity that Goren was sure all females got for free the first time they bought their own pantyhose.

"And...um...if this is a mummified body...it's not like I've...um..they will get to see many...and when Captain Dacre learned where it was, he kind of lost the plot about special victim crime in the five boroughs"

Eames had learned a long time ago..._sometimes it seemed like too long ago_...to pick the real truth out of Goren's vague evasions which were not always deliberate. And she had sensed the last time she and Jack had dinner with Bobby and Caro, that while he was enjoying aspects of instructing at the Academy and it had given them a more _"normal"_ life with Joel so young, he was starting to miss _"the job"_.

She let him wait a fraction. To wonder whether she had swallowed his story hook, line and sinker before she spoke.

"How come you didn't bring them up the 16th?" she asked in reference to the Manhattan unit.

Goren wondered about the female logic that could be irritated to find him here, yet hint at disappointment he didn't fix to visit her Squad Room.

"Didn't want to trouble you" he shrugged.

"So you came to trouble me here instead Goren. Is that it?"

"Noo" Goren said slowly.

"I thought...I might...they might be of some help"

The only thing worse than that tone of incredulity from a woman was the look. And Eames was giving him the same one Caro had on Monday night. Though the idea some aliens turned up and made the mess in their living room was never going to fly.

But it was doubly cruel of his wife to jolt him back to consciousness after they made love asking _"So what planet were they from Rob?"_

_**To be continued...**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**Row C, Safe'N'Sure Storage**_

Goren watched three of his students depart reluctantly with John Munch and Dan Fulton, the owner of the facility. Reluctant, because they were not going to see immediately the reason for them all being here. He could understand that. Two of them at least, still had that some of that morbid or ghoulish tendency that was part of human nature and which, as a cop, you soon lost. Richetti was different. She, like him had done time in the _Military Police_ before joining the force. Had seen her share of sights and because of her experience, was the obvious one to accompany Munch to interview the employee who had found the body.

But she had not kvetched about it, unlike Tierney. But it was hardly his fault Goren knew the guy was fairly adept with IT and thus the most likely to be able to help a distracted and anxious Fulton. Bad enough with all that was going on the owner was sweating in the chill of the cavernous warehouse, but with his clerk absent with the flu, they did not need him to screw up the computerised record system they wanted him to access.

He had listened without comment as Eames delivered a stern lecture to them all on the scope of what they could or could not do and, if they valued their careers, had better not do. Not sure if, at times, some of her dire warnings and advice were really directed at him.

A uniform stationed at the entrance to the line of lockers, stuck out one arm and quit chewing.

"CSU are just finishing up with some footprints before anyone enters the scene" he informed them.

"C15 seems to be the last on the left. No surprise there then" Eames said to no-one in particular.

"I wonder why?" added Goren.

She was just about to say something about how much he must have forgotten, when she realised he was addressing that question to the remnant of his group.

At a gesture from one of the technicians, they set off into the row of storage facilities. Thirty in all, each the size of a garage, they faced across from one another. Eames suppressed a smile as Goren used his size to head off his two enthusiastic students and fall in beside her.

"Looking forward to your trip to LA Bobby?" she asked to fill the silence punctuated only by footfalls.

"Oh yeah" was the rather dreamy reply followed by a faint blush.

Alex knew part of the trip was intended to be a delayed honeymoon for Bobby and Caro and had long suspected one reason they were so good together.

"Though I'll need a promotion to pay the excess baggage for all Joel's stuff" Goren added quickly "One of the other problems with having a kid"

"Guess so" said Eames softly as they arrived at C15.

Goren turned to his students as a couple of CSU technicians stepped away from a large box just inside the door.

"End of the line sir" said the fair haired guy.

"If you've got a lot of boxes or furniture to haul most people would try to get one close to the entrance. So chances are this one does not get rented out so often. Ideal location to dump something you don't want it found too quickly"

"Sure" replied Goren "The harder question Kramer, is why someone would store a body in a public place to begin with"

Eames doubted that her former partner noticed the irritation on the face of the female called Elder or Alder. She also doubted the young woman had come up with any kind of answer herself. But she knew for certain of old where Goren's real attention was fixed as they approached the crate

_**Storage Locker C15, Safe'N'Sure, Brooklyn**_

Goren managed to stop himself getting first to the wooden box with steel re-enforced edges. This was not his case he reminded himself, as to the rear of the space one of the technicians spoke to him.

"Hi Bobby. Long time, no crime scene"

Jimmy Antonelli had been a familiar face with CSU when he worked a number of _Major Case _enquiries. Before his promotion and transfer to a Brooklyn team.

Goren glanced up into the gloom.

"That light is bust" Antonelli confirmed for him as Goren stepped neatly across a section of the floor that had been marked for evidence collection.

Old habits took a long time to break as he removed a penlight from his pocket and swept it across the area. A second, identical looking crate stood in the rear left corner of the unit and between a few scraps of paper, fragments of glass and some packing peanuts, there was a thin layer of general dust and grime.

"Any decent footprints?" Goren enquired.

"One" Antonelli pointed to the spot.

"Looks about the right size for Delgado who cracked the crate open. And the type of sneakers he's wearing"

Goren's light traced a couple of faint lines in the dust almost back to where Eames was standing.

"Direction of drag is right for him to have hauled it back there to take a look in better light" he observed.

Antonelli snorted briefly "Didn't forget all I taught you then?"

Goren searched his memory of that time for anything he may have learned from Antonelli. The only thing he could remember was the way Jimmy used to hit on Eames.

"Size of what we can see so far is consistent with a kid" a second technician was saying.

"And with a volume of six cubic feet I doubt this crate would hold the body of a normal adult. Even one as desiccated as this body"

She might have been eager at the outset, but Goren could see from Adler's face, reality was proving rather more difficult for her to deal with. He glanced down into the container and swallowed hard before cutting off the emotional part of his being. The lower half of the body was still invisible under quite tightly wadded balls of newspaper which were packed all around.

"Someone took time to pack this kid thoroughly" said Eames as if to confirm his one of his initial thoughts.

Hoping his students _"got it"_ for themselves he continued his observation. The head, what was really only a skull with the skin pulled so tight over every bone, and one shoulder was consistent with a child of elementary school age. The remaining hair was fair in colour, short and looked like it would snap in two at a touch.

"Probably a boy" he said aloud and tilted his head to one side.

"Kind of folded up...foetal position...can't see any evidence of..."

Eames could almost see Goren's head click into gear as he remembered his relationship to the other observers. He was supposed to teach them.

"Um...this...let's call him a boy for now...has probably been in some kind of...of container since death. Had the body been exposed to the outside or even in a cellar it would have been subject to animal or insect activity. They like soft tissue...both to eat and...um...lay eggs in. Including the structures of the face. Which you can see appears to be undamaged"

"Is he a black kid?" asked Kramer.

"Doubt it" answered Eames and knowing why he asked.

"Features like the hair are wrong. The dark colouring is a side effect of the drying out of the body. Same as the brittleness and the visible creasing of the skin"

She did not need to look to Goren for confirmation but he did add one thing as he lifted out a couple of balls of the paper to expose more of a striped t shirt that hung over the skin and bones.

"This degree of natural desiccation is very unusual. I'm wondering...salt...some kind of drying agent? To...to draw out the bodily fluids and encourage the shrinkage of the internal organs"

"Like a mummy?" asked Adler.

"Not really" replied Goren handing one ball of paper to Eames and starting to straighten out the second.

"The ancient Egyptians who developed the process to the most sophisticated level used to open the abdomen and pack and re-pack the body cavity with packets of absorbent material. Over many days. At the same time the outer surface and joints remained pliable so they could bandage them. But that was only in the later Kingdom burials. The earliest...what we call mummies...relied only on external application...there's a couple of books you could..."

"What have you got?" asked Eames to spare his hapless students one of Goren's _"reading lists"._

She been subjected to many suggestions herself in the years they worked together and guessed they had already received plenty of Goren ideas on useful, but esoteric, material to fill their spare time.

"Looks to be the High School football results from El Paso" he replied.

"Yeah I got the beef prices from an auction. Laredo I'm guessing"

"That figures" said the CSU technician who was bagging some of the paper already removed.

"We found the front page of an old _El Paso Times_ with the wads that Delgado removed before he saw the body"

"How old?" frowned Eames.

"Five years ago" he shrugged.

Goren and Eames glanced at each other. The geography and the time line for the placing of the kid in the crate had potentially moved a lot further south and backwards. Which was not going to make the job any easier.

A male voice saying _"sir?"_ from outside drew them both from that momentary reverie.

"Bobby?" Eames touched his arm to remind him that he was the one being spoken to and perhaps to remind them both it was no longer _"their job"_ but hers.

"What is it Bradley?"

"That Zipcode CSU found on the box I was to check out? It's San Diego. San Diego, California"

"Well that's a relief" muttered Eames "It might have been San Diego in Spain or Mexico or..."

She trailed off thinking she was being kind of mean.

"Go on Bradley"

"Yes ma'am. It relates to an area of warehousing near the port"

"Makes sense" shrugged Goren gesturing the younger man to take a look at the crate.

Eames gave him a brief smile and said softly "How long before he sees that remnant of foil and figures that's often used to line crates for shipments like coffee beans over long distances?"

"I'm just glad you noticed it Eames" Goren observed.

"You want to stick around here?" she enquired tartly.

"Yeah I know" he sighed and made a zipping motion across his lips.

_**To be continued...**_


	9. Chapter 9

_**Unit C15, Safe'N'Sure, Brooklyn**_

"Not surprised were you Eames?" asked Goren as they followed his students from the storage locker.

She shook her head.

The second crate, identical to the first in all but the scrap of shipping label stuck to the side, had yielded equally grim contents. Another shrivelled body also believed to be that of a young boy. As tightly packed into his wooden tomb with wads of paper. Pages of the _"El Paso Times"_ with similar dates. The only differences were that the other child was possibly younger based on size and dark haired.

Eames turned to look back inside where the ME's people and CSU were discussing the best way of protecting the fragile remains for transport to the King's County lab.

"Preserved to be kept as trophies Goren?"

"Possible but these days someone who gets off on that kind of thing would opt for freezing. Keeps them...more natural...kids that size could be laid out in a chest freezer without..."

Goren trailed off sensing she did not need nor want further _"practical"_ detail.

"But..." he went on. "But those who like to keep trophies like to return to them. To...um...enjoy them. You saw those crates and the lids Eames. I doubt anyone opened them since the day they were nailed down. Which, going by the packing paper, was five years ago"

She'd seen the lid for herself and how much force Goren and Antonelli had to apply with a pair of pry bars to get the rusted nails to budge.

"I can't get by all that paper Goren...the _care_ if that's not a stupid word for it...that seems to gone into keeping the bodies...almost safe...when they were in transit."

It did not occur to Eames she was _"talking it through"_ with Goren as if he was still her partner.

"However they came to die someone went to a lot of trouble and must have deliberately moved them from South Texas" she went on.

"And transferred them from the original container they were in"

The only response from Eames was the sceptical raise of one eyebrow.

"Once bodies desiccate like that they become fixed and rigid. I know they are only kids but if they had been put in the crates before rigor set in or after it passed off, they would not be curled up as tight as they seem to be. And there's no smell of any chemical drying agent I'm sure must have been used. Swabs might turn up something but I saw no sign of any staining on the inside of the crates and none on that paper we pulled out so far is anything but a little yellowed with age. More than my gut says those kids were stored in something else first... like a large suitcase..."

Goren paused and frowned "Though I don't know what you find so amusing"

"Not amusement Detective" shrugged Eames.

"Just relief. That you noticed that too"

The latter was said over her shoulder as she left Goren standing. Bemused and fast getting in the way of the technicians.

_**Safe'N'Sure Office, Brooklyn**_

With Goren's five students there was something of a small crowd gathered in the limited space.

"You can have all of them Lieutenant" said Fulton handing her about twenty, thin manila folders.

"So long as I get them back sometime"

"You will. Thanks Mr Fulton. Perhaps you'd like to get that coffee in the break room now?"

With those words she dismissed him, dropped the files of ex-employees on the desk and nodded to John Munch.

"Delgado usually works at the other depot in Queens. Was only brought in to help Fulton check there were no more stolen electronics on the premises" he replied with a look at Richetti.

"Anything to add?" she offered the rookie.

"Only that the regular manager for this facility who might be of some use is not here...Sam Murray. But there's nothing suspicious about that. Took a few days vacation time before any of the trouble blew up. Due back tomorrow though we could track him down if you want ma'am"

"Not yet. What about you...sorry didn't catch your..."

"Mike Tierney ma'am"

Like Richetti he was a little older. Perhaps had more life experience would stand him in good stead on the job.

"I've got the printouts for C15 for the last six years. Before that they were using an old card index system and ledgers. Can start on those if you want"

"Hope it won't come to that but if..."

"Ma'am?" Tierney cut across her a little.

"I...um...I hope it's okay but I also got the listings for all the other units in aisle C"

"Why? asked Adler bluntly.

"Because I rented a storage unit one time. Previous user left a pile of crap I threw out. The facility shoved it in the nearest empty one until they could deal with it. I thought it possible..."

"Good enough for me" observed Goren who was leaning against a file cabinet and had frowned at a crestfallen Adler.

"Me too. I take it we didn't turn up any reports of two missing crates from someone who left their real name, address and phone number?" asked Eames

She knew it was a rhetorical question and she had glanced through the facility letting agreements. Which among other things, advised their clients to clearly label all containers and informed them they would have to describe _"in detail"_ any items they left by mistake before the company would release them.

If the person who packed the bodies in the crates suddenly realised they had gone _"missing"_ they were hardly likely to come back and willingly describe the contents to get them back.

"Not sure there is much more you can do Detective Goren. Thanks but don't let us keep you"

"Our pleasure Lieutenant. Load up ladies and gentlemen. See you John"

With a nod he ushered his charges out of the room. Like a mother duck with her hatchlings Eames watched them cross to the minivan in his wake. A mother duck just happened to be the size of a small grizzly bear and sometimes had the temperament to match. She wondered idly how much the insurance premiums of the Academy had risen since Goren arrived. A lot if the way he skidded the vehicle across the parking lot were anything to go by.

"I should call the Chief" Eames said picking up the phone on the desk to call 1PP.

"I'll see Fulton. Get him onto packing up the index cards just in case we need them" offered Munch.

She nodded and began to punch numbers she knew all too well these days.

_**Office Of The Chief Of Detectives, 1PP**_

Dick Nichols sat for a moment contemplating the call from Alex Eames. It was early days, but he was relieved that there was nothing as yet to suggest any current employee of _Safe'N'Sure_ was involved with the ghastly discovery there. And in one respect Alex was right. It probably could go back to the local SVU Unit for investigation.

Except Nichols was taking no chances and had told her to run with it. Despite the Manhattan Unit being down an experienced detective with Elliot Stabler still in plaster. Just their luck when he and a fleeing suspect fell from second story fire escape, that the runaway was the one to walk away. In cuffs, but the only place Stabler was going was to the ER with a broken leg

Knew from the sound of her voice, Eames had not been thrilled to be given the job of breaking the news to Captain Dacre but he would make it up to Lou on the nineteenth hole on Sunday. One thing he always liked about Eames was she was no kiss ass without ever straying into outright insubordination.

_**To be continued...**_


	10. Chapter 10

_**Brooklyn SVU, 69**__**th**__** Precinct, Foster Street**_

Eames was leaving the office of Captain Lou Dacre a little relieved. He had taken on the chin the instructions she had relayed from the Chief that this case was to stay with her unit and that she was to work it from whichever location was most convenient. On the other hand, it might well suit him in the light of his own caseload and avoiding any family issues when he got home.

As she stepped into the bullpen she walked into a large and solid object.

"Sorry" said Goren too busy juggling a paper sack to realise who he had bumped into.

"What are you doing here Goren?" she demanded to know.

"Afternoon to you too ma'am" he teased her.

He nodded to an empty desk where his folder was sitting. "I'm supposed to be here. Look on my schedule for the week if you don't believe me"

"Hmm. Of course"

Eames was doing her best not to sound like an idiot for forgetting.

"What you got for lunch?"

"BLT and tuna on wholemeal" he sighed offering her the bag and knowing he'd not get to enjoy the tuna after all.

At least his ex-partner had the manners to swallow the first mouthful before she spoke again.

"What are your kids doing?"

Goren perched on the edge of the desk studying lettuce looked a little limp on closer inspection.

"Analysing some local crime statistics and not getting ketchup on them if they know what's good for them" he growled.

"Think they would be up to lending John and me a hand?" she asked casually "Tracking down the people who rented C15? Few background checks?"

His eyes narrowed with the suspicion of man who had been out-manoeuvred by her once too often. "It's not on our schedule Eames"

"Since when did you start letting that sort of thing bother you?"

Give Bobby his due. Kept a totally blank expression during the internal wrestle with his dilemma. To do what he supposed to do and if rumours were right, doing a very good job of it. Or run with his natural instincts. Give into temptation and give his investigative legs a stretch.

"Hi Bobby" said Munch over his shoulder.

"Got you some lunch boss".

He handed Eames one of the small sacks.

"Let me know what you decide Goren"

She was gone leaving him with a half eaten tuna sandwich in his hand and the certainty he would probably live to regret his decision.

_**Brooklyn SVU, Interview Room 2**_

Eames had never been in real doubt what Goren would do and had no doubt about letting him doing it. He might be re-assigned until late summer but he was still a substantive _Major Case_ detective and while she had never told him so, probably the best she ever worked with. Apart from that bad patch around his mother's last illness and death and she occasionally regretted she never told him what she really thought at that time. Might have helped him a little.

She glanced up to see a familiar sight. Goren in the middle of a frustrating grind that so much _"detective work"_ really entailed. His powers of concentration often better than her own, the tie was gone, the collar loose and his hair was distinctly rumpled on one side of his head.

"Tell me you hit pay dirt Bobby" she sighed ignoring any idea of formality in front of Richetti and Tierney.

"No" he dropped a bunch of papers on the desk containing the inventory of information about each previous user of the unit they had agreed at the start.

Goren took an unopened bottle of water from the side and took a hefty swig as Munch was summoned from the room to take a call.

"And sorry Eames but we will have to head back to the Academy soon"

"Do we have to sir?" asked Tierney.

Goren paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth again. And wondered how long it would be before Joel began to question or whine about it being bedtime or having to leave the swings.

"Up to you" he shrugged. "Or really up to Lieutenant Eames since I can't stay on"

He turned to her "Caro's at work tonight"

Eames knew their schedule needed some juggling. Hell, hers and Jack's did at times if they were ever to see each other. How much more complex it would be with a baby you didn't want to hand over almost 24/7 to day care or a sitter.

"Understood. How far back did you get with your list?"

"Almost five years" Goren stretched his back a little "Anything hopeful on the past employees?"

"Nothing" said Eames. "There is one possible from the past users we checked out. Contact address in Texas. Turns out to be an infantry Lieutenant. One currently on deployment to Iraq"

"Good luck with tracking him down"

Richetti glanced up "Ma'am I might be able..."

"Thanks" grinned Eames "But I still have the number of a friend of a friend in my desk back at base I can try"

"You got a nerve Eames" muttered Goren who knew just who she was referring to and how she came by that number.

"Always"

The door opened on Munch.

"You want the bad news or the good?" he asked though he didn't wait for a reply.

"That was Antonelli. They've found a scrap of newspaper with a date four years older than any of the others"

"Great" muttered Tierney.

"Oh it gets better son. From the article they think it may be from a paper printed in New Mexico"

"Something left by a previous user of the packing crate?" Eames suggested but suspecting it was wishful thinking.

"Probably not boss. It was in the first crate. Stuck to the leg of the boy and the staining suggests it was there when his tissue was soft"

Eames allowed them all a moment of reflection. To reconnect with the grim reality it was easy to forget at times.

"And the good news?" she enquired.

"There's a print run number in one corner. Jimmy is fairly confident they can track down the circulation area by morning"

"That's something" Goren conceded "Have they been able to confirm both as male?"

Munch nodded. "They've managed to extract them intact and King's County Hospital is going to CT scan them tonight. They are calling in an expert from the Museum to give them advice on how to...to straighten them out. So some form of regular PM might be possible"

Eames stood up "Guess I'd better go call New Mexico. Just in case"

Goren watched her leave knowing there had been no response from Texas all afternoon to the very vague information they had been able to supply to date. It seemed logical to assume the boys had originated in that part of the country based on the evidence of the newspaper packing and climate. Primarily hot and dry local conditions would speed the process of desiccation compared to wet or humid. And could be the sole cause if no evidence of something like salt was found on the bodies.

Identifying the kids might be the starting point for explaining how, who and why. How two young boys ended up like skeletons covered in stiff leather for skin and abandoned in a cheap wooden sarcophaguses in a dark corner of a storage unit. With none of the gold and splendour afforded the mummies of the Egyptian pharaohs. Kings like Tutankhamen, whose funeral riches had led to lines around several blocks when they were displayed at the Met in 1970. He had lined up with Mom and an impatient Frank to see it himself. Read everything he could and a lot he didn't really understand at the time.

For the parents who must have waited years to have their worst fears confirmed, the answer to _"who"_ and suitable meting out of justice might be some consolation. But as he returned to the room where he had been working, Goren knew the _"why"_ of treating kids in that way was more complicated for him now. The motivations, the psychology, the pathology which had once seemed so trustworthy and true rang hollow and incomprehensible now he was a parent himself.

_**To be continued...**_


	11. Chapter 11

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren took a beer from the ice box, cracked it open, avoided the minefield of toys on the floor and slumped on the sofa. Certain feeding Joel his supper, bathing him and putting him to bed was more exhausting than the rest of his day put together. Especially when his son was determined to put up a fight about being dressed in his pyjamas. A pair, like so many things, he was fast outgrowing again. And no matter what the books said he was sure that _"nanana dadada"_ accompanied by wriggling resistance was a genuine opinion on the matter, not just random babbling.

He moved the book he'd read to Joel before carrying him half asleep to his crib and instead of making a start on the mess he was at least fifty percent responsible for, he opened his folder. Reading through the various notes he'd made through the day and wondering what progress Eames and Munch made after he left. Trying to block an idea forming in his head, Goren reached for the TV remote and spent thirty seconds reminding himself why he never really liked ice hockey.

The beer, renewed silence and his feet up on the coffee table held the idea at bay a little longer. Or would have done if he had noticed that squeaky clown before his size thirteen's landed on it. He flicked it onto the floor with a toe and wondered why anyone thought a clown should squeak. Someone who knew an eight month old would find it hilarious in a game of _"peek a boo"_ he concluded.

Goren set the beer on the table swearing he would not take another mouthful until the floor and all other surfaces were clear. And knowing that when certain thoughts formed it was impossible not to act on them.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

It was not until she was certain the apartment was empty that Alex remembered Jack was due to have a working dinner with Ron Carver. She took a small tray of lasagne from the freezer and slid it into the oven. Something about applications for assistant DA posts. She had not really been listening as the morning conversation wandered between that and the menu for their wedding lunch they had to confirm by the end of the week.

They had always known the occasion would grow from their initial idea of going to City Hall one lunchtime and grabbing two strangers from the street as witnesses. And deciding the menu for four hundred would have been no more problematic than the forty five they had managed to stick with. So far.

In the shower she to tried to wash away the frustrations of the afternoon. Everyone who had rented unit C15 in the last six years had checked out on the basics. Used their real names, had not paid with stolen or cloned credit cards and could be traced via other means to the addresses they gave or to which removal companies collected or delivered the items they had in store. People _"between" _permanent homes, mostly within New York or the tri-state area or those needing the facility during re-modelling and all the other reasons folk needed a large storage unit for a time. None with criminal records worse than a traffic ticket. Captain Cragen was not pleased to hear they now faced interviewing most of those people to discover if they could recall seeing the crates at the back of the unit.

Alex was halfway through dressing when the phone rang.

"Yeah?" she said struggling with one hand to haul on some sweat pants.

"_Alex it's Bobby. Make any progress after we left?"_

"No such luck" she replied sitting down on the bed and wondering why he called.

"_I...um...I had an idea...spoke to a few people and...um...if you want..."_

A faint smile crossed her lips. She had no intention of helping him out of the awkwardness was such a weird aspect of his character at times. Bobby would get there.

Eventually.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren lay in bed wondering if he was seeing another example of that _"multitasking"_ women prided themselves on or just someone who was not getting one thing finished before she started another. To him, a mere male and mortal, the only thing Caro needed to do was finish taking her clothes off and get in beside him. But he knew better than to suggest she quit sorting laundry and organising things for their trip in between.

So when she asked him something about the pants he intended to take to California, he said the first thing that came into his head, knowing prevarication would provoke irritation. He could always switch them some other time.

"And don't use any of those diapers on the dresser" she instructed him. "I'm taking them with us"

"I expect it's possible to get diapers in LA" he muttered wriggling his shoulders under the covers.

"I expect it is Rob. It's the time between here and Amy's place I'm thinking of"

He concentrated on the view of her butt, ignoring her anticipation of Joel being bound to get a tummy upset on the plane. To question the improbability would result in that phrase _"well he is your son"._ The one his wife often used to explain the more erratic, unpredictable and unwelcome aspect of Joel's behaviours as if she wasn't responsible for fifty percent of his genetic programming.

When she did finally get into bed, her feet were cold and for once he did not complain about her warming them on him. He'd gotten away with a switch to their schedule tomorrow that put Caro to some minor inconvenience involving work and taking Joel the nursery. It was the last piece in the jigsaw puzzle he'd put together with the Deputy Commandant of the Academy. And Eames had taken up the offer of some help without ragging on him mercilessly. Even sounded a little relieved.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Jack McCoy was exerting similar patience snuggled up to Alex. Keeping the early foreplay casual while he heard about the end of her bad day. She'd listened to him so he would return the courtesy and could understand why having Goren and a couple of his rookies for another day would help her. She had seemed especially stressed for a couple of days now, so it was not just about the grim findings at the storage facility.

He murmured something suitable in response to that information, kissed her forehead and began to use the flat of his hand in circles on her belly. Then she pulled away a little.

"By the way. There was a strange message from my Mom on the answer machine. Did she speak to you this morning Jack?"

For a moment he was seriously tempted to feign ignorance and lie.

"Yeah...um...something about your Aunt Jane coming to the wedding. Who is she anyway? Did I meet her?"

"Last New Year I think. And she's not my real Aunt. Just an old friend of Mom's. So what did you say?"

"What I've learned to say in recent weeks" McCoy muttered. "Nothing"

"I thought we agreed that if Mom started trying to add to the list again we would say _fine._ So long as she crossed off people from my side of the family, not yours and not the list of our friends"

"Agreeing it and me saying that are two different things Alex"

"Huh"

She turned away from him, taking a disproportionate share of the covers with her. McCoy resigned himself to a corner of the quilt knowing his repertoire of physical encouragement and skills of verbal persuasion would avail him of nothing now.

Being a guy between a woman and her mother when it came to weddings brought a whole new meaning to the phrase _"collateral damage"._ He'd learned that the first time around but evading it was proving to be no easier on the brink of the third.

_**To be continued...**_


	12. Chapter 12

**Thursday 17****th**** February**

_**CSU Laboratory, Bedford Avenue, Brooklyn**_

Eames was content to leave Goren to make the visit to the morgue. He always found them instructive and the ME's usually found him irritating. And it would be a valuable lesson to the students he had managed to extricate from the Academy schedule. The two of them, like Goren himself, had come to NYPD with a background that must make some of the curriculum a grind or repetition of earlier training. The reason he was able to get them released from a day on the firing range they did not need.

She and John Munch concentrated on what Jimmy Antonelli had come up with.

"The clothing we cut from the smaller boy in the second crate has not been very useful so far. Only item with a label is very faded but we think it was made in Mexico"

"Not surprising if the kids originated close to the border" observed Munch.

"They almost certainly did" said Antonelli.

"And you can thank _Koolkids _for that piece of information. Sent them a picture of the other boy's pants when we saw the label and they were able to confirm that it was a trial design they never went into full manufacture with. Had limited distribution"

"Including Texas or New Mexico?" enquired Eames.

She was still concerned none of the agencies in the Lone Star State or New Mexico had come up with any boys missing five years or more who fit the details they had been able to send them.

"Yeah. Houston and Albuquerque. There's a full list in the file for you but we may need to look further west"

Antonelli gestured them to the bench where he had the scrap of newsprint found fixed to the leg of the fair haired victim.

"Once we got it loose and straightened out we could see the place names properly"

"Including Tucson" said Eames as Munch beside her groaned softly.

It was just visible through the staining on the paper. And if they were right that it was in contact with the body before it fully desiccated or stiffened, that would put the boy possibly in Southern Arizona close to the time of death.

"The local paper for Tucson is _The Explorer_" Jimmy said "And they have been able to confirm the distribution code in the margin as matching one of theirs"

Munch was studying a map "An area south of Tucson to the state line in the east and...roughly the line of the _I8 _to the west"

The piece of information did not make Eames feel better but it could fit. She and Goren were both of the opinion the boys had been in one container before being packed into the crates. The additional possibility of them being moved between times was perfectly feasible when you considered they ended up in a storage unit in New York City.

"When I was speaking to the paper, they did run a check on their archives for any missing boys around that time. They struck out...thought it...you know..."

"Yeah thanks Jimmy" acknowledged Eames.

He might be irritating at times but Antonelli did his best to be helpful and it would explain why there had been no urgent response from the agencies in New Mexico.

"I've still got to do analysis of any biological on the paper but here's the kicker"

As they followed him to another bench Eames glanced at Munch. The CSU people were usually great people to work with but some of them, especially the young male ones, loved to put on a finale on these occasions. Like a conjuror pulling a rabbit from a hat.

Eames went along with him and peered through the microscope to see some grey/white crystals.

"So what am I looking at Jimmy?"

"Natron" he said with a tone of triumph.

Triumph because he probably guessed right that neither Detective knew what the hell he was talking about.

_**Department Of The King's County ME, Winthrop St, Brooklyn**_

One of the best things about working _Narco _and _Major Case_ was simple. Children as victims or laid out on a slab, were relatively rare. Like most cops, Goren had always had to steel himself to deal with them and today was no different. Perhaps easier, because what lay in the shallow baths, surrounded and covered by damp gauze bore little resemblance to children any more.

Wraith like in their insubstantiality with all the soft flesh shrunken away, they might have been bundles of sticks. He had only seen one similar case of a corpse stuffed into the large flue of an industrial boiler. Under the guidance of an archaeologist they were using a solution to loosen the skin and straighten them out, but it was a very disturbing sight. The limbs, slowly unfolding and stuck out at unnatural angles, making it seem like the boys were fixed in a moment of unspeakable agony.

Goren was a little relieved when Doctor Garston finished answering the questions of his curious but openly more horror struck students. She took them to a terminal where she had a number of the CT images waiting which she enlarged in turn.

"The first boy discovered is, based on average ranges and the partial eruption of the second set of dentition, between seven and nine years old. Hair and facial structure and all other indicators say Caucasian. No visible external wounds to be sure of cause but I'll come back to that. What I can tell you is he has a spiral fracture of the right humerus. Almost certainly peri-mortem"

She pointed to the twisted gap in the upper arm bone.

"Spiral fractures in pre teens are often symptomatic of abuse" said Goren "Being grabbed and dragged like so..."

Richetti did not flinch as he took her arm without warning to demonstrate. Unlike some, she had come to expect such things from Detective Goren who had an occasionally uncomfortable or embarrassing way of making a point. And she learned something else new into the bargain.

Garston nodded "Exactly. Which brings us to the second boy"

She changed the images on the screen.

"At first, like you, we expected this boy to be younger based on his size. But the eruption of second molars you can see here puts him in the same age range. That, features of the skull and other measurements makes us almost certain he is of Hispanic origin"

"Which would fit with South Texas" observed Kramer who had completed part of the training for _Connecticut State Police_.

"In some counties over ninety percent of the population is Hispanic"

Whether Kramer knew that before or had read up on some facts overnight, Goren was suitably impressed, if determined not to show it.

"With him...let's zoom in...we got good images of the neck..."

"Fractured hyoid bone" said Goren who had seen enough in his time.

She nodded and asked "So cause of death?"

"Strangulation" said Richotti promptly.

"That's what I would say. He's also got a small fracture of the cheek bone"

"Peri- mortem?" asked Goren.

"Yes"

"Meaning both were subject to some kind of assault around time of death" mused Richetti "And given those similarities and all the others, your money is on the other boy being strangled too?"

"I don't gamble of the cause of death of children officer" was the arch response.

"DNA?" asked Kramer.

"Running on this one...well you saw the other...needs a while before I can get at the mouth to pull one of the teeth"

Remembering the pose he was in under that damp shroud, Goren could see what she feared. Pulling the poor kid's head right off.

"About that solution you are using?" Goren began having restrained himself so far in furthering his own knowledge.

"Funny you should say that" said the medic opening a file.

"We and CSU found some pale grains in the crates, trapped in their clothes and in the limb joints. Both labs ran tests but we came out with the same thing. Sodium carbonate decahydrate...what you might have heard referred to as soda ash...sodium bicarbonate and sodium..."

"Natron" said Goren suddenly.

"...chloride" finished Garston "And yes a combination commonly referred to as natron"

"What the hell is natron?" frowned Kramer.

The medic nodded to the tall detective she already decided was no-one's fool. And, disappointingly, wearing a wedding band.

"It's a naturally formed type of salt to put it crudely. But its best known for being the substance the Ancient Egyptians used to dehydrate bodies for mummification. There's an area in the north called Wadi El Natrun. The beds of former salt lakes. Full of..."

He broke off conscious he was being stared at, looked to the floor and shuffling his feet added "Okay so I had an Egyptology phase as a kid"

"Me too" shrugged the doctor.

"Is it imported to the USA?" enquired Kramer.

"Doesn't need to be" said Goren "There are deposits as close to here as Pennsylvania"

"What about Texas or New Mexico?" the younger man went on.

"That's the interesting thing" said Garston handing Goren what looked to be a map.

"Thanks" he said his attention firmly fixed.

Totally unaware, as he had been many times before, of his companions trying to see over his shoulder and failing.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN: **_There really are natron deposits in the USA..._


	13. Chapter 13

_**Conference Room 3, 1PP**_

Eames helped herself to coffee from the side table.

"Thanks for your help at _Safe'N'Sure_ Paul" she called across the room.

Paul Braun was distributing folders to one or two others who had arrived a little early.

"You're always welcome Alex" he smiled "Especially when I know you will be returning the favour very soon"

"Hum" she chose a place at the table nearest the door.

"The way things are going I might be able to let you have Elliot"

"How's he doing?" asked someone else.

"Due another x ray next week"

She turned her attention to her set of briefing notes and, reluctantly, switched off her cell phone. In her heart she did not doubt the operation the _Organised Crime Unit_ wanted to run on an especially troublesome _"new gang on the block_" in Chinatown, had merits. And the moment she signed up for promotion to the grade of Lieutenant, Eames had known that this kind of thing would take her away from the front line of police work.

But right now, her Unit was spread thin on the ground. Apart from Elliot, they had someone else long term sick, a maternity leave they were barely covering and Danni Beck seconded to a Joint Task Force with the FBI. In the car over from Brooklyn, Tutuola had called her to see if Munch could follow up on some interviews in relation to the Giambi murder. And since they were two people living or working that side of the East River, it made sense.

Eames just wanted this over quickly and to get back to Brooklyn. Being discovered to have left your case in the hands of a temporary Academy instructor and two of his students, was unlikely to be a great career move.

_**Interview Room 2, Brooklyn SVU**_

Munch turned from the map on the wall that Antonelli had given them showing a circulation area for _"The Explorer"_ and onto which, Goren had drawn other lines. Lines which marked two areas within that part of Southern Arizona where natron could be found.

He had Kramer chasing his tail with somewhere like the _National Geological Survey_ to find out how accessible the mineral might be to someone with just a shovel and had excused Richetti to observe an interview with a ten year old girl. One who had a lucky escape from a potential paedophile she met on line. Kids were a group where she was lacking in experience given her previous career in the military.

"I've called the State cops of course" Munch shrugged.

"At this rate I would not be surprised to hear you end up interviewing someone in Alaska" muttered Goren who was writing on a map of the USA.

Eames had contacted the Tucson Police Department even before they left CSU in response to what they had learned there and Goren's call from the ME's office. In her absence on her way to 1PP for a long scheduled strategy meeting, it was Munch who had taken the return call. Tucson had no missing boys that fit the description, clothing or timescale for their victims.

Taped to the white board, Goren had marked on the map all the locations which had featured so far. From San Diego where the crates originated who knew when, right to Brooklyn. So his comment about the geography of the case was not as impossible as it sounded.

Between sips of coffee Munch watched him add for each location any firm dates they had or evidence that related to it.

"What were the months on all that newspaper from the _El Paso Times_?" Goren asked.

John glanced at the ordered pile next to Goren's jacket "June second to August tenth"

"Thanks. I know that this is not turning out as we expected, but it's possible there is a person out there somewhere with links to all these places and timescales. Except...probably not San Diego since crates used by house movers can end up all over the country"

"I suppose it's always possible whoever left those crates at the storage place could be dead by now" said Munch.

"It would explain why they were never claimed but you would think whoever was..."

Goren paused as a civilian clerk entered the room.

"Sam Murray has arrived" she announced "Desk officer is escorting him up now"

"Thanks" replied Munch as Goren began clearing the table.

"I'll...um...let you"

"Oh stick around Bobby. You still have a gun and a badge"

It took them a few minutes to get an agitated and concerned Sam Murray settled down and to tell them what he knew in an ordered way. And convinced that his actions were not in any way responsible for the situation.

"Can you take a look at this" said Munch showing him a photograph of the two crates as they were first seen by the police at _Safe'N'Sure._

He put on some spectacles "One crate looks much like another but we don't move that many ourselves...yes...yes I would say they are the ones I moved into C15. Size, the steel bands and the colour looks right"

"Anything else about them you remember?" asked Goren.

"Yes...how light they were...easy to lift. Usually those things are packed with books or a lot of crockery. I even got a hand trolley ready...and the lids were made of a different wood. Lighter shade and thinner I would say"

"Thank you sir" Munch cut him off with a glance at Goren.

What Murray said made sense, fit with the weight recorded by CSU and his recall about the lids, which were not visible in the picture, was also accurate.

"So let's go back to why you moved them" said Goren "Use this plan of the warehouse so Detective Munch and I get this right"

"A customer called in the office to say he was sure gasoline was leaking from a unit along the line from his" Murray began "I went to Aisle C to be sure it was gas and which unit so I could get the right keys. People are not supposed to store..."

"Yes we know" said Munch "Do you remember where it was coming from?"

"Around here" he pointed "Either C18 or 19...somewhere around there...does it..."

"No" said Goren quickly.

"I took some sawdust with me...you'd be amazed the kinds of things get dropped...put it over the spill which had run towards the end of the line. The floor slopes that way down to a drain. I don't think..."

"Sorry" said the same clerk as the door opened.

"There's a Detective Chater on the line for you"

"Who?" frowned Munch.

"Arizona State?"

"Oh yes...sorry Mr Murray...please Bobby?"

As Munch left, Goren got Murray re-focussed and from him, the information that during the cleanup operation he had moved two crates. From just inside the door of either C13 or 14 where gasoline had spread. Carried them into the empty one at the end which was C15. Made it easier for him to put sawdust down and scrub the concrete. That was still quite wet when he finished for the week, so he left a message in the office for the staff working the weekend to return them where they should be when the floor of the original unit had dried.

"And did you ever check they did that?"

"No"

"Now Mr Murray. I need you to be as accurate as possible. When did this happen?"

"Oh that's easy" shrugged the older man "It was in October because one reason I never checked is probably because my wife was in hospital at the time for surgery...women's problems...you know?"

Goren had an idea even if his generation was not so coy.

"So they were there nearly six months?"

"No Detective. Two and a half years"

"Excuse me Mr Murray"

Goren got up and went to the side table where they had left the print out of all the users of units in Aisle C going back for six years. He flicked through the pages until he found the relevant month and then read down the columns for the two units Murray mentioned.

What he saw filled him with one of the worst sinking feelings of his life.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN: **_Natron is found in a number of States of the USA, but not Arizona...geological fiction._


	14. Chapter 14

_**69**__**th**__** Precinct Parking Lot, Foster Street, Brooklyn**_

Instinctive loyalty and gut reaction took Goren as far as his car. What stopped him going any further was the sight of the baby seat in the back. If he went ahead and did what his emotions were telling him do, the chances were high he could destroy whatever career he might hope to have in NYPD. It was not something he had ever spent a lot of time or energy thinking about, in the past or now.

But in the past, he had only himself to think of. Before, if he brought everything crashing down around him and he knew came close to it once or twice, it was only himself he really had to think of and who would bear the consequences. Things were different now. He had a wife he was crazy about and who, for reasons he never understood, felt the same about him. And then there was Joel. That astonishing little manifestation of _"normality"_ he often used to think had passed him by.

Goren put his keys back in his pocket and turned back to the building.

He'd just reached the door when his cell rang. He did not recognise the number.

"Goren"

"_Hi"_ said the voice of Eames sounding a little distant.

"_I've been trying to get hold of Munch. Has he gone to follow up those names on the Giambi case?"_

"No Eames. Things have got more complicated since you left for 1PP"

There was a muffled mix of groan and expletive on the other end of the line.

"How long will you be only I should...um...I really need...to speak to you about something else which came up"

"_Fifteen minutes with luck"_

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Brooklyn**_

With two detectives keen to speak with her on her return, Eames faced a choice. She picked her former partner for one simple reason. Those three words _"I really need"._ Something she could hardly ever recall coming from Goren's mouth. At first she had taken his self-sufficiency to be a sign of arrogance and ambition, an indication he'd step all over her to get things done his way.

Later, as she came to know him better and to learn a little more of his background, she saw it differently. Realised this was a guy had been _"on his own"_ in many ways since he was barely a child. Self reliance had to come when you had parents who, for very different reasons, were unpredictable and people like that often found it hard to trust others.

Eames knew she earned that trust with time and listened without comment as Goren described the critical points of the statement Murray had made formally before he left the building. Unconsciously using a couple of used paper cups on the table to illustrate the point. But she only understood what was clearly bothering him when she saw the logs from storage units C13 and 14.

They showed the name of someone Goren had known since High School. John Dwyer had been a classmate of the late Frank Goren, but had remained close to Bobby ever since. More a brother to him than his own sibling ever was, John was in his late twenties before he found or could no longer avoid, his true vocation and became a priest. Had even led part of Bobby and Caro's wedding ceremony.

"You don't seriously think John had anything to do with this do you?" she asked.

"Not for a moment. Know for a fact he's never been to Arizona and if John has...has a problem with his vows...or anything else it's nothing to do with children"

Eames looked at him a moment "I have to...you didn't try to...you haven't?"

"Almost" said Goren softly remembering the seat in the back of his car.

"It will not be a good idea for you..."

"I know" he cut her off "Bad idea all round. Did you eat yet?"

"No"

"I'll go get us something while you speak to Munch about Arizona"

Her own instincts were that there would be an explanation that would prove Dwyer innocent in any part of this mess. The way things were going it was probably asking too much for it to be a _"simple"_ one but she hated to think what it would do to Goren if they were both wrong. He had once told her that John Dwyer was the about the only person left in his life who had known him since he was twelve years old. Compared to her list it was very short and also rather sad.

_**Glenwood Road, Brooklyn**_

"I thought you said you had been here before" muttered Munch as he stopped the _Malibu _and looked for somewhere to turn around.

"Twice, it was dark and Goren was driving both times" retorted Eames "And he is a better navigator than you any day"

Munch gave up and decided to go around the block.

"So let me get this right" he said "Dwyer lived with Goren while they were converting his place, the parish house, into a halfway joint for recovering addicts?"

"Not _with_. It was while Goren was away on sabbatical. You were at the party we gave him at _Roark's_ and come to think of it probably met John Dwyer...he was there"

"Don't remember a priest"

"Doubt he had his collar on. Anyway once the work was done on what was to become his apartment, John moved back in, which will be why the hire of one of the storage units was shorter"

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Brooklyn**_

"Yes sir...yes I do...and I hope you will understand why I need to ask for it. No sir I don't think it can wait on DNA confirmation...okay...thank you and I will try to..."

The line to Captain Chater of the Arizona State Police went dead and Goren took a deep breath before he spoke.

"Kramer. See how much longer it will be before the ME thinks she can get a profile to Phoenix"

"Yes sir"

"And" he called after him "Make sure you let Chater know. It won't help, but at least we did what we can"

As the door closed, Goren turned his attention to Richetti and the map of Arizona she was working on.

"Did you find _Coyote_ yet?"

"Too small to be on this map sir but, I've worked it out close enough and when you look its obvious Andrew London didn't fit the pattern"

She pushed it across the table for him to see.

"Based on geography? Maybe" Goren observed mildly.

"But I guess there is a lot more to it than just that"

"Uhuh. Could you run a search on Andrew?"

"We've got a lot of material here sir"

"I know Richetti but as you will discover, sources like local papers often print background information...flavour and...um...texture if you like, that as cops we tend to ignore in our quest for the more tangible."

As she set to work, it occurred to Goren that had maybe sounded a little _"Zen"._ And if he was worried about his choice of words, it was as nothing to the problems Captain Chater was having.

Nine years ago when the lab was sure that scrap of newsprint got stuck to the leg of a dead boy, Arizona was in the middle of a case already dubbed _"The I17 Killer"_. Over the course of two years, five boys aged seven to nine years old vanished. Two bodies were discovered, two were still missing and one had been found in the possession of one Ralph Secombe. He had a previous for molesting boys and all three recovered had been sodomised as well as suffering other injuries during the time he held them captive. Assumed to be about three weeks, based on the disappearance and time of death of the fifth boy.

Captain Chater's problem was that the body of the third boy to vanish now seemed to have turned up in New York. And Secombe, convicted of five murders including that of Andrew "Randy" London, was dead. Been the recipient of _"jailhouse justice"_ less than a year into his life sentences, without ever _"co-operating"_ with the authorities to locate the bodies of the missing boys.

Goren did not envy him having to contact the Andrew's parents and could not say if having your son's body back to hold a proper funeral would _"make up"_ for all those years and what looked very much like a miscarriage of justice. He did not want to think about it too hard and the only _"good news"_ he had been able to tell Chater was that the dental records of the unaccounted for Kenny Walters, were not a fit to their second boy.

Good news for Chater but not for them.

_**To be continued...**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**St Anthony's House, East 93**__**rd**__** St, Brooklyn**_

At first Father Dwyer assumed their visit might be in relation to one of the project's clients occupying a room in the main part of the church house. A teenager he feared may have gone back to drugs and prostitution since she failed to return from her job a week ago.

Eames doubted when he heard the details that the priest would be _"relieved",_ but all she said was that they needed to speak to him about a very disturbing discovery at the _"Safe'N'Sure"_ facility. Knowing as she said it Munch had stationed himself to best see the reaction, if any, on his face as Dwyer moved around the kitchen to get them coffee. John's look told her there was none.

"The place on Remsen?" he asked

"Yes Father"

"I used it a couple of years back when the work upstairs was underway"

"Thanks" Eames took her cup and passed the other to Munch.

"Yes we know you did"

"I see" said Dwyer slowly who was no-one's fool "And that's...okay Alex...ask away"

"You hired two units?"

"Yes. As well as my personal items and furniture of my own, we also stored some furniture from the empty parts of the house we knew we could re-use"

He paused for a fraction before adding "Though the second one was probably only half full in the end"

"You said _we_ Father" said Munch.

"Only in the sense there were various parishioners got involved in sorting things out and helping to load or unload the van we hired"

"You held the keys though?"

"Yes Alex...no..." Dwyer trailed off and then said "Not all of the time"

"We'll come back to that if we may" said Eames "We know C14 was emptied first. Were you involved in that personally?"

"If you say so" he shrugged in response "I couldn't be sure of the exact numbers now. Yes, the one emptied first was the one that had my own items in. I moved in down here before the work upstairs was finished. Bobby gave me some help to finish the decorating"

"And there was nothing you had placed in there missing? Or nothing in there that did not belong to you?"

"No Detective" he responded to Munch.

"And C13? What happened there?"

Dwyer laughed briefly "That was filled so full we could hardly get the door shut. That's why I had to hire the second Alex...lucky to get one next door...I very much underestimated how much space would be needed"

"How often did you visit either locker between depositing the things and removing them?"

"Not at all. I had use of everything at Bobby's apartment, though I have to say I missed some of my books when I took a closer look at some of his"

"Can we go back to the keys? Were they in your possession the whole time or not?"

"For the full one...thirteen...they were. The half empty one...fourteen, no"

Eames had a good suspicion Dwyer was playing her a little. Making her ask the questions rather than give fuller answers or add anything extraneous.

"Okay then Father" said Munch "Tell us what went on with the other set"

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Brooklyn**_

Goren had his students undertaking the same exercise he had himself to pick out the elements in the disappearance of Andrew London which fit with the other four boys and those which did not. It was not for him a study intended to prove the Arizona State Police _"wrong_" since he was already 90% certain that they were. Dental records, the clothes, the age/size of the body at the ME's office and some work they had done comparing the CT scan of the skull with a school picture taken three months before he vanished, all matched.

However, he could see why the boy did fit the _"pattern"_ in many ways. He vanished on a Thursday as did three of the other four and, like them, was Caucasian aged between seven and nine years. But that was when, if you looked more closely, you realised Andrew was the oldest of the five. By almost a full year and unlike the other boys who were generally considered _"small"_ for their age, Andrew was at the top of the range for his year of birth. He was one of two boys last seen with a bicycle, but his was found a hundred yards from the last known sighting, whereas Kyle Jameson's was found at the home of his certain killer.

And Richetti was right. The geography was the most glaring difference. Two of Secombe's undoubted victims had vanished from right alongside the I17. From a crowded rest stop, full of families, RV's etc and the parking lot of a diner. Where the victim's mother was working an extra shift as a waitress and been unable to get a sitter. The other two had been less than a mile from the Freeway and both near service areas.

Andrew London was presumed taken from a rural road ten miles east of the I17. Indeed, among the newspaper reports Richetti found, there was a story about how the defence made that very observation in court. As well as pointing out there was no witness, physical or forensic evidence to link Secombe to Andrew's disappearance and presumed death. Whereas for the boy still missing, they did find prints almost certain to belong to him in the killer's basement and his school bag hidden under some floorboards.

But as Goren knew very well, when crime was especially heinous, the defendant both unsympathetic and un-co-operative and _"bang to rights"_ on the rest, a jury would be more likely to convict. Swayed by emotion, not convinced by the lack of hard evidence.

The last set of papers to come to them by fax because the case was still in paper format, were the essential elements passed to the State police by the local cops. To whom the London's had first reported their son missing. When he didn't arrive at the ranch home of the friend where he was heading and when his own father found only the bicycle on the side of the road.

It was only when he saw the heading at the top of the first page that Goren took in exactly where Coyote must be. It fell within the jurisdiction of the Sheriff's Department of Bethlehem County, Arizona. And Goren had very clear and slightly painful memories of Art Drummond and his deputies. He had _"enjoyed"_ time in their cells and received a hefty whack on the head with a telephone directory before they accepted that he had not raped and killed a local waitress.

_**St Anthony's House, East 93**__**rd**__** St, Brooklyn**_

Even though she had yet to tell Father John exactly what had been found at _"Safe'N'Sure",_ Eames could tell Dwyer was unhappy about telling them what he knew. Common sense told him two SVU detectives did not pitch up for something trivial and it was almost certain he would have social and maybe professional links with anyone whose name had to be mentioned.

Her experience had taught her it was not _"reluctance"_ on the part of people who found themselves in this position which made them falter. Nor a conscious desire to obstruct the police. It was the fact their minds had to do two things. Recall as accurately and fully as possible and, at the same time, come to some emotional terms with the increasing possibility that a relative, a colleague or a friend had possibly done something unspeakable. The sort of thing you would never think them capable of or with the inclination to do.

"Michael Phelan is...or rather was...the sexton at Our Lady...the neighbouring parish" he clarified.

"I don't remember exactly how the conversation went, but I ended up saying I had a unit only half filled and paid for and he was welcome to use that if there would be enough space in it"

"Sorry to stop you John" said Eames "So it was his own property he wanted to store?"

"No" said Dwyer softly "It was Father Pool's and some other things...not sure...I know he said something about the room they use for Sunday School which is also in the residence"

"Go on" urged Munch.

"Not much more I can tell you. Michael dropped by to collect the key two days later, called to say he was sure there was enough room if they worked round some of the bigger furniture and I let him keep the key. Brought it back about a week later"

"Can you be sure of the dates?" enquired Eames.

"I'm sure the school can confirm when the function was held and they were on a tight schedule to get finished before Father Mark got back from...I don't remember exactly...was all supposed to be a surprise"

Eames tried to say it slowly "So to the best of your knowledge anything that went into your storage came from the Church House at Our Lady"

"Yes but...this is not good is it Alex?"

"I'm afraid not Father" she said softly.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN:** _What happened to Goren in Bethlehem, AZ is all told in _"A Friend Of Mine"_. It and _"Coyote"_ are both fictional._


	16. Chapter 16

_**Captain's Office, SVU, Brooklyn**_

Goren had decided to take advantage of Dacre's absence to use his office and make a couple of calls. The first to Caro, to let her know chances were he was going to be home late. It was not the first time since they had been together or since Joel was born and he doubted it would be the last. Always said she knew what she was taking on and took it pretty well. Perhaps more so on this occasion, because she was in a store with Joel and it sounded like their son was up to some mischief the way she cut him off fairly quickly.

When he got through to Art Drummond and announced himself there was a throaty chuckle down the line.

"_I guessed from the way State seem to be getting they'all drawers in a bunch I would hear from someone up there. Never expected it to be y'all Bobby. How many cops in New York?"_

"About forty thousand. You heard about Andrew London then?"

"_Yep and I always said it. He was never one of the kids that bastard Secombe took. You got the details?"_

"Yes and I'm ninety percent sure the boy we found is yours"

"_I larned the hard way to trust y'all Bobby"_ said the Sheriff quietly _"Of course Chater and the other...his guys are hoping against hope it's not and I'm guessing y'all didn't call to crow"_

"I didn't. I've got a lot of your initial paperwork Sheriff. When Randy left home, who saw him on the way, some pictures but there's a few things..."

"_Fire away son"_

"Coyote. What's it like?"

"_Size of a piece of ant crap. Aside from the London's gas station and general store, there's a church house only holds a meeting once a month these days and maybe a dozen homes. Mostly people who work in Flagstaff. Rest is just scattered houses with enough land to keep a few stock and the Bar K where Randy was heading that day"_

"What about this witness saw Andrew and the black saloon car?"

Drummond snorted _"Just because Mrs Dane was eighty and deaf as a post didn't mean she didn't have eyes as sharp as...as anything. There's one road out of town and her place sits on a rise so if...did they send y'all the timeline...the one we drawed up more or less confirmed vehicles seen heading that way or going into Coyote that afternoon?"_

"No sir. And I take it Mrs Dane is dead now?"

"_Uhuh. I'll dig that list out but fact is Joe London saw the black saloon go by himself about twenty minutes after Randy left home. So did Mrs Dane and we later tracked down the driver of the soda truck she saw coming the other way. By then the State boys were not interested of course...with they'all serial theories and psychological bull crap...but that driver was fairly sure saw he saw a black saloon because the road is so narrow where it crosses the creek bed he would have had to pull right over. Hell a kid Randy's age could piss right across it"_

Goren found himself smiling at the colourful descriptions of some of the methods he knew and which had served him well on occasions.

"No way she could have missed a truck the size of the one Secombe drove then?"

"_Not unless she took a nap on the porch which is always possible...but that was another piece of dog don't hunt when he got caught Bobby"_

"Go on"

"_If y'all take it that his truck hauling tyres and vehicle spares never went into Coyote... and we never found anyone saw or heard it...how the hell did he turn it round once he grabbed the boy?"_

"Because of how narrow the road is?"

"_Yep and you've seen enough of these parts to know most of the range is fenced. There's wire all the way from Coyote to where the road crosses under the I17. Ditches y'all never get a truck out of both sides and most of the property gates are too narrow to reverse into. I told one of those guys at Phoenix they should bring his truck out and try if for themselves"_

"It's possible Secombe only drove the tractor unit that day Art"

There was another throaty chuckle _"Screw you Detective. Yeah I guess, but either way it don't look like it"_

"It doesn't. Art? Does the London family have any connections with the far south of the State you know of?" Goren glanced at his folder "San Sebastian? Dayville? Even Tucson?"

"_Not as I know. You think the boy ended up down there?"_

"Could be. And no other boys from your patch missing before or since?"

"_Not unless you count Ryan Kelly but he was twenty when he vanished and owed a ton in child support"_ Drummond paused "_You got another then?"_

"Yes"

"_Sheeyit"_ breathed the older man _"Chater never said"_

"Still of the opinion Andrew was not a runaway?"

"_Positive Bobby. Average kid for round here. Sensible type of boy if you get me. Some kind of hall or library monitor at school. He was not the sort some pervert could lure with cute puppies if that's what y'all thinking"_

Goren smiled to himself. That was the same character for the boy as the parents described in a newspaper interview which Richetti found.

"I was wondering. What was he into?"

"_Baseball and he had a lot of those model dinosaurs in his room"_

"Thanks for your time Art. We may need to speak to you later"

"_Sure but not today if y'all can avoid it"_ his voice turned solemn _"I'm waiting on someone from State...you know...to go with to break the news to the London's and get swabs...for DNA"_

"Don't envy you that one Sheriff"

"_Yeah...anyways...you still working with Alex Ames?"_

"Eames" said Goren automatically "No...yes...she got promoted to Lieutenant and..."

"_Always seemed smarter than y'all"_ teased Drummond.

"Always" acknowledged Goren sincerely "She's working with Special Victim's these days...this is their case...I got dragged in by accident...I'm seconded to the Academy right now"

"_Accidents and y'all seem to go together Bobby. And what about that head doctor with the great pair of..."_

"Caro and I got married just before Christmas" said Goren quickly and knowing his wife had _"great"_ of several things came in pairs.

"_Congratulations"_ laughed Drummond _"What took y'all so long? Next will be the patter of tiny feet I suppose"_

"Yeah well...shovel before the shit as y'all would say...we had a baby boy last summer. Joel is crawling now"

"_I'm glad"_ said the Sheriff kindly _"How things worked out for y'all especially after...you know..."_

"Forgiven and forgotten Art"

_**The Bullpen, SVU, Brooklyn**_

Goren had seen the _Chevy_ Eames was using, pull into the parking lot and her get out before it drove away. He waited for her and they went into a quiet corner to fill each other in on the progress since they last met. That Andrew London lived within the Bethlehem County jurisdiction was as ironic a co-incidence for her as it had been for him.

But as mask like as he could make his face when he needed to or sometimes chose to, Eames saw the flicker of relief cross Goren's features. When she was able to tell him it seemed certain John Dwyer had no hand in the contents of the crates that had been for a time in his storage unit. Nor did she need to tell him they would be following up on dates he was uncertain about to tie them in with the information Murray gave them.

"I could get Richetti and Kramer onto that if you want Eames"

"Please" said Eames with an obvious tone of relief.

"Munch has gone to do some follow up on the Giambi case while I speak with Casey about a search warrant for _Sacred Heart_"

"Good luck with that" muttered Goren.

They had both had previous experience of less than full co-operation from certain parts of the Catholic Church in New York, but at least Father Pool's new church was in Manhattan. Back on _"home turf"_ for Eames and the rest of her team. One which was very thin on the ground right now.

She smiled a tired smile "And you would just love to be there wouldn't you?"

"No"

Goren surrendered to her look of disbelief he knew so well "Okay...yes. But I'm supposed to be clearing my desk tomorrow morning and taking some leave"

"Of course. I forget you leave for the west coast on Saturday, don't you? Pity in a way... but Caro would kill me"

"You would be second on the list" he shrugged "So what about this sexton? You need him to verify what John told you and form a direct link to property belonging to this other priest"

"Thank you for reminding me Detective" Eames said without real harshness.

"Trouble is Phelan is in a place called _Hardy House_..."

"The hospice?" frowned Goren.

"Yeah you know it?"

"Only because when Mom... I wondered about...but then decided..."

"Of course" said Eames

She was guessing that when he knew his own mother was terminal, Goren may have considered moving her closer to the city to save him the hike up to Carmel Ridge he did so often and for so many years. Little wonder he looked so tired and sick himself making the almost daily visits in the final weeks of her life.

"John's trying to help us there. He has or had parishioners there and knows the Catholic Chaplain. See if we can set something up very quickly"

Goren nodded "I'll...um...and then I'll head over to the Academy...before I go home"

Eames headed for a phone wishing she could openly say _"I really could use your help right now Bobby"_

For all sorts of reasons.

_**To be continued...**_


	17. Chapter 17

_**Police Academy, East 20**__**th**__** Street, Manhattan.**_

Goren found what he was looking for in the reference section of the small library. He scanned the page quickly and soon shoved the copy he had taken into a pocket of his back pack. Between there and his car he called Eames.

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

She smiled to herself as she made a few notes. She might have guessed that Bobby's curiosity would get the better of him, and the facts and couple of dates he shared with her would save them a little time. Especially when their copy of the _"Registry of Priests: New York Diocese"_ was nowhere to be found.

It would strengthen the case for the warrant Novak was trying to secure. They now had _"proof"_ that Father Mark Pool was the incumbent at a parish in El Paso over the same time period as the dates on the newspaper used to pack the two bodies.

With a weary sigh she went to offer Tutuola some encouragement. His desk was almost hidden by boards on which he had pinned a huge array of pictures, many of which had names written beside faces. Eames knew their attempts to identify a guy called _"James"_ who might have been present at the time of the Gold boy's bar mitzvah party had been painstaking.

Now, he and Dempsey were trawling through images taken by other guests at that party. Just their luck that the hotel only kept its security footage for two months.

_**Office Of The Executive ADA, Hogan Place, Manhattan**_

"Sorry...er...you go..."

McCoy ended up ducking one way and then the other to get by Casey Novak in the entrance to Ron Carver's office. She had come a long way professionally since she was first appointed to the bureau which dealt with sex crimes. And whatever her faults, like no sense of humour he ever discovered, she had not fallen into the traps many did there.

"I wish I could check out on time" muttered Carver seeing his boss in his topcoat and carrying his bag.

"And I wish you were the one going to give a talk to the NYU freshmen" growled McCoy in response.

"I'll take that over finding a judge who will sign a warrant for a search of all the premises of _Sacred Heart_"

"The one on East 78th?" frowned Jack.

"You know it?"

"Not really but tough luck Ron...not just a Catholic Church but a parish where the great and good...well maybe not the good..."

"You made your point Jack" said Carver "Though _SVU _and Casey need to join the dots a little more first"

McCoy said nothing. As the DA he could not get involved in the day to day of every case and certainly not one where Alex was involved. But they all knew there were certain people or organisations you dealt with where you made sure you were bullet proof.

"Who is on the roster?" was all he enquired.

"Fulger and Tucker" said Carver "And Andretti. Well known supporter of the _St Vincent De Paul Society_"

"Tucker's an _Episcopalian_" McCoy offered.

"That will do" conceded Carver "Though weren't we taught _Justice _was blind to politics, religion and a whole lot of other things?"

"We were taught a lot of things at school Ron. Before they thrust us into the cruel world of reality. See you tomorrow"

Carver returned to a case he was due to take to the _Grand Jury _next week.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren was doing his best not to look sheepish across the dinner table and the silence was getting uncomfortable.

"You see if I can get this done tonight..."

"I'm not really interested in your juggling act with your professional diary Rob" Caro said quietly and he shut up.

"I arranged to get my hair cut tomorrow afternoon"

"Looks fine to me Caro" Goren said quickly.

_Too quickly._

"Oh? So you _do_ think you'll be gone all day?"

"I didn't say that...I just mean it does...and besides, if...which it won't...I expect Mrs A would watch Joel for an hour or maybe..."

"Oh forget it" she muttered "Do what you want Rob. You usually do"

Caro stood up and began to clear the table.

"That's not true Caro"

"Isn't it?" she turned back to him "And did Alex even ask you to get involved?"

"Not in so many words...she seems I dunno...kind of down right now...and SVU is short on their roster"

"Huh" said Caro heading for the sink "Well if the mounted section gets busy next month, tell them too bad... we don't have room to keep a horse in the garden"

He followed her with some dishes "This is different. I mean we worked together so long and I feel I owe her...and there are things in the past that..."

Goren realised he was not exactly helping himself "What I mean is...there's nothing...we never..."

Caro snorted "I know that"

"You do?" he frowned allowing himself to become distracted.

"Of course" she shrugged "Told me one time over a bottle of wine...or maybe it was two?"

That did not make him feel any better. Left him wondering what confidences an _"under the influence"_ Caro might have shared in return.

"And of course I understand that Rob...but it feels to me like your priorities are..."

"I'm sorry that you..."

"Don't interrupt" Caro said "I'm just saying it's not often I expect you to put me...us...first and yes...I can see you are anxious to make sure John is in the clear and to be there if Alex wants you. All I'm asking is...try to see it from my point of view"

"I can...I do Caro"

Goren opened the refrigerator to put the butter away.

"Maybe if we could switch our tickets to Sunday or Monday..."

"No way!" snapped Caro "Is that what you have been working your way towards from the start?"

"No" he protested what he knew to be the truth.

"I just thought..."

"Don't even go there" the warning in Caro's voice was clear.

As he turned, she looked right at him.

"Joel and I will be on that plane Saturday morning as arranged. Am I making myself clear enough?"

"Yes Caro" he replied quietly.

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Jack McCoy handed the phone to Alex with the words _"John Munch"_. Then got up to clear away the remnants of their supper.

"Hi John. How did it go?"

"_Okay I guess. Phelan is on a lot of medication of course and it took some time but we got there"_

Eames waited for him to continue.

"_I've sent his signed statement over to the DA's office and he can't be sure about how many crates or boxes went to storage or what was in them. But he is sure they all came out of the parish house at Our Lady. Had a guy from his company to help them load a van he drove for the two trips it took them"_

"So there are other witnesses to that...if he...you know?"

She hated to be callous. Just to think about a possible trial when Mr Phelan was dying, but sometimes you had to put hard practicality before human feelings.

"_Yes boss and a couple of names of the parishioners who helped pack various crates and boxes, but I can't follow up on that tomorrow morning. I'm in court"_

Eames had forgotten that.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

They had barely spoken all evening and it was Caro who answered the phone in the kitchen.

"Hi Alex...no you didn't...yes he is...just a moment"

Goren was already on his feet and halfway there from the corner of the huge basement room where they kept a desk. His wife said nothing as she left the receiver on the counter, finished pouring a glass of milk and took it in the direction of the stairs.

It was a further hour before he followed her, visited the bathroom and then went to look in on their son as he always did. He tucked a little hand under the quilt.

He was almost certain Caro was awake, but did his best not to disturb her in the darkness of their room. One of the few occasions he knew to stay as far _"his"_ side of the bed as she was keeping rigidly to _"hers"._

_**To be continued...**_


	18. Chapter 18

**Friday 19****th**** February**

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Cragen shrugged "Don't see a real problem Alex. He's still a substantive _Major Case_ detective and whatever Goren's...um...quirks...no-one ever said he didn't get results"

She had not expected difficulty but it still came as a relief even if her Captain's next words were "And if it all goes pear shaped it will be your ass on the line"

"I hear we finally got an ID on the Hispanic kid" he went on "What took so long?"

"I don't pretend to understand all the details but Arizona and our people have been trying to reconcile DNA profiles that were almost identical. Then the Tucson cops had to get to the bottom of a family who were illegal migrants at the time the boy vanished"

"So he was never reported missing" sighed the Captain who had come across too many cases where crimes against kids went un-reported for fear of the INS.

"Uhuh" said Eames "Turns out our boy...Juan Mendoza...has a twin brother Joaquin. His was on the system because they screened all the males working at a factory following the murder of another employee"

"How old is the surviving twin?" asked Cragen.

"Nineteen. Our boy went missing a dozen years ago, three before Randy" said Eames "But at the time the Mendoza family or part of it, was living here"

She pointed to an area on the map of Arizona that fit with the distribution zone for the scrap of newsprint stuck to the London boy and close to one of the places natron was found at ground level.

If you could call it that, they were making progress.

_**The Parking Lot, NYPD Academy**_

Goren was anxious to get to his car which, grudgingly, Caro had said he could take. The atmosphere at home that morning had more _"frosting"_ on it than they had on their wedding cake. The one time he tried to raise the matter that was sitting between them like an elephant in the room, she had cut him off.

Pointing out that they did not have time to discuss it properly if he was to leave on time. And knowing that would only end up making things worse, he'd offered to finish giving Joel his breakfast while she went to get showered and dressed.

Having done what he needed to in an office he shared with a PT instructor who was rarely there, Goren wanted to get to SVU as soon as possible. He did not need to meet the Deputy Commandant on his way into the building. But he did remember his manners enough to acknowledge shyly the compliments he was being paid about the job he was doing. And lie about looking forward to a meeting when he came back _"to discuss the future"._

Whatever that meant.

_**Sixth Avenue, Manhattan**_

Neither said a word, but to both Goren and Eames it felt like old times. She driving them uptown, while he shared some additional information about Father Mark Pool.

"How did you find all this out?" she asked him at one point.

"Called John from the office this morning and ran a search on the Pool name last night"

Eames glanced over at him juggling paper around in his folder and trying not to drop any.

"So now we are not just dealing with a priest who has some of the city's most influential parishioners amongst his congregation, but one whose Mommy has the ear of the bishop"

"When was it ever my job to make our lives easier Eames?" Goren shrugged.

She smiled at that "Go on"

"Not much more to say except the parishes in El Paso and in Brooklyn were the only times Father Mark managed to escape his mother's plan to get him elected the first American Pope"

"Little chance of that, the way this is looking" muttered Eames.

_**Sacred Heart Church, E. 78**__**th**__** St, Manhattan**_

The door to the impressive brownstone next to the church was opened by a thin man, wearing what Goren had once told her was a _"soutaine"_ and with spectacles perched on top of his head. Eames had expected some sort of housekeeper but, between presenting Pool with the search warrant and explaining the essentials, she did not miss the expressions on his face.

"_Surprise and mild confusion"_ followed by something that looked like _"resignation"_ and maybe a touch of "_relief"_.

When Pool began to say something about needing to call someone, Eames steered him into a room immediately to the right. It got him out of the way of Goren, three local uniforms and three CSU technicians all wearing latex gloves. They began to disperse through the building and she looked around the room. It was a formal sitting room full of overstuffed French style seating and expensive dark furniture. And she could not help but notice there was a thin film of dust on many surfaces.

Goren had relayed Father John's view that Pool liked to live a plain and simple life and was embarrassed and uncomfortable with some of the trappings that often went with his work. Or were somewhat imposed on him by his mother with her ambitions for her youngest child and only surviving son.

Eames left him in the company of one of the uniforms with instruction to get him to the nearest phone as soon as that room was given an initial search. She headed down the stairs to the basement passing a dining room at the rear.

Below, she encountered a CSU technician exiting a door and muttering "_Laundry room"._

In the main space, Goren was standing in the middle of the room. To his right was a kitchen and to the left seemed to be the space where Pool spent most of his time. A couple of easy chairs had seen better days and an incongruously large, flat screen TV for a room that was _"shabby"._ The far end contained a desk and the rest of the walls were more or less covered by shelves full of books.

"Great" she muttered as Goren went over for a closer look.

Every one of them would need to be checked for anything incriminating hidden between their pages.

"We'll need the computer taking away" she said in passing to the technician who was looking into kitchen cupboards.

Eames opened the refrigerator which contained very little and she suspected the stew was from a parishioner, since Pool had confirmed he had no housekeeper.

When she reached Goren, he was squatting to remove one of three large storage boxes from a bottom shelf. As he tilted it she could see it and the others had dates on them. As did the spine of the first photograph album he removed.

"Someone after your own heart" she observed having teased him many times in the past about his OCD tendency to label things.

Goren stood up and opened the album so Eames could see.

"Family pictures?" she observed over his arm.

"Uhuh...this must be his father with the cane...lost part of his leg in Korea, Mrs Pool and the baby must be the future Father Mark"

Eames found herself counting the kids herself. A boy, now deceased, who had been fifteen years older than his brother and four girls between. They stepped down in height across the picture to one must have barely been out of diapers when it was taken.

"Detective Eames" called a voice from top of the stairs.

"Coming!" she raised her voice in response, then said again "Coming?"

"Huh?" Goren quit flicking through pages of the second album and reluctantly set it down.

Eames rolled her eyes at fond memory as he followed her from the basement room.

On the second floor they came to a large bedroom facing the rear.

"Seems unused" said Tommy of the new looking furniture where drawers and closet doors were still open.

Eames paused at the bathroom between where one of the cops was searching through a cabinet.

"Very nice" she observed of the space.

"And expensive" added Goren of the fittings and tiles "A previous incumbent or Mrs Pool's money at work?"

"This is the room he uses" Tommy pushed open the door to a much smaller bedroom and stood back.

It was the closest to a monk's cell Eames had seen, even if she had never been inside one for real.

"I've seen better bunks in Riker's" she observed of the narrow metal framed bed.

She moved to the foot to allow Goren between it and a closet held very few clothes.

But the attention of both of them was taken by what was in the corner of the room. It looked like a low altar, covered with a green cloth and on the top were a cross and numerous small statues Eames assumed were saints.

As they moved closer they could see the reason Tommy had called for her. He had lifted the cloth on one corner.

"There are two of them" the technician told them.

They both stared at the metal edged corner of a wooden box that looked identical to the two discovered at _"Safe'N'Sure"_ in Brooklyn.

_**To be continued...**_


	19. Chapter 19

_**308 East 78**__**th**__** Street**_

"Did you...?"

Eames indicated the camera Tommy held thinking Goren was going to move the items on top of the _"altar" _when he went by her to stand in front of it.

The CSU technician nodded and like her, waited for him to finish looking.

That was when Eames noticed his lips moving and for a second it crossed her mind that Goren might be praying. If so, it was not the best time for a lapsed altar boy to re-discover religion.

"The first intercession" Goren suddenly announced "That's what this represents"

He glanced at Eames and could tell from her face she wasn't about to waste words asking him what the heck he was talking about.

"In the Mass" he continued "There are...parts called _intercessions_...in the first, various saints and martyrs are named, starting with Mary"

He pointed to a statue even Eames would have recognised.

"Goes through the Apostles like Peter here, Thomas here and includes ones most people never heard of like Cletus...not sure which he is...there's twenty five or six since Pope John added St Joseph"

Goren picked up and handed her one of an elderly man holding carpentry tools.

"Okay" said Eames slowly passing _St Joseph_ to Tommy.

"But apart from Mary there are no other women in that list" he went on "So why is she here?"

Eames looked at where he was pointing.

"Is that...are those her eyes on the plate she's holding?"

"Yes" said Goren "St Lucy. Putting out her eyes was one of the tortures...but the story is she could still see. She's always represented like this. But that's the point Eames"

She was tempted to kick his shins, but instead said as patiently as possible "What is?"

"St Lucy along with six other female martyrs and seven male come in the _second_ intercession. None of the others are here. Now why would Father Pool mix them up like this?"

"I dunno" said Eames fast getting exasperated "Do priests have favourite saints? And the better question right now is what is in those boxes?"

The brief look on Goren's face was the _"confused"_ one. The one that told you he did not understand why she wasn't as intrigued by this apparent liturgical paradox as he was.

"I'll pass the others over shall I?"

"Good idea Goren"

Ten minutes later the statues were crammed onto the top of the dresser, the cloth was removed and the two boxes moved away from the wall.

"Size is identical" said Goren recording it in his folder as Tommy went to find a pry bar.

It was confirmation of their initial impressions though it would take removal to the lab, to compare the weight and any other properties not yet visible to the naked eye, before they could be sure.

"...and bring Father Pool up here" said Eames to whoever was reporting the three rooms on the third floor as clear of anything of interest to them.

By the time he and the uniformed officer arrived, it was crowded in the small room. Goren removed his jacket, took the pry bar and as Tommy took pictures, he went round applying leverage to each nail.

The noise they made as they came up through the lid of the frame made an already pale Father Pool wince. It was the only sound in the room as finally Goren was able to take the top off and place it on the floor.

"Interesting" he said reaching down into the crate.

_**Office Of The Captain, Major Case Squad, 1PP**_

Danny Ross ended the call with Cragen. It was polite of his opposite number at SVU to let him know what one of the detectives he was still responsible for was doing and with luck, there would be no problem. If Goren was choosing to work when he supposed to be on leave there was not much he could do about it. It wasn't as if he was off pursuing some private obsession, Eames had always been able to rein him in before and it only left one question unanswered.

Why, with a wife like Caroline and a cute kid like Joel, didn't Goren have better things to do? Ross mentally erased the word _"cute"._ The child already looked too much like his father to be described as that.

_**308 East 78**__**th**__** Street**_

If Eames was relieved by what Goren was taking from the two boxes, Father Pool was totally confused.

"...more drawings of Palm Sunday...least I assume that's a donkey" said Goren unfolding a large sheet with some heavy crayon marks.

"And what's this...a sheep...seems to be missing the head...and yeah...I'd say by the crown that's one of the kings..."

He tossed it on the bed to join the other elements of a nativity scene and various old books and pamphlets of a religious nature aimed at children.

"This is really not what you were expecting us to find is it Father?" asked Eames quietly.

"N...no" was out of his mouth before he could think about it.

"We found those already" said her former partner "Two boys reduced to skin and bone..."

"Goren" warned Eames quickly sensing the way his voice was changing.

He gave her a fractional nod and said to the priest "Did you work it out yet? How the boxes got switched around?"

_**Office Of The District Attorney, Hogan Place.**_

McCoy checked his watch and picked up his phone.

"I'll have chocolate sprinkles today please Maggie"

"_Yes boss but that's not...I have the Bishop on the line very keen to speak with you"_

"I expect he is" muttered McCoy who did not need to ask which bishop or what he was calling about.

"Put him through...good morning Your Excellency"

He might have used the most formal means of address, but McCoy wasn't beyond playing dumb while he assessed how much of a headache he was likely to develop before his doughnut arrived.

_**308 W 78**__**th**__** Street**_

Before Father Pool was led out of the room, Eames read him his rights and hoped she got the list of crimes Novak sent with the warrant correct. All relating to concealing two deaths, moving bodies across state lines without proper documentation and preventing a proper burial or cremation. Not the kind of offences any cop arrested someone on suspicion of more than once in their career, if that. But with the priest cautioned and under arrest, they could get him out off the premises whether he liked it or not.

She went to the top floor simply to satisfy herself the two rooms up there contained nothing requiring their immediate attention. The furniture had been covered with dusty sheets, removed to check drawers and in closets.

In the bedroom Goren was returning the items he had kept in two separate piles to their relevant boxes ready for their removal.

"I wonder why he didn't check them?" she thought aloud "When he realised the parishioners at _Our Lady_ had redecorated and moved the boxes?"

"We need someone who can confirm he had something like this at the previous parish Eames" he reminded her.

"That's true. Think it's possible he had no idea what was in the boxes got left behind at _Safe'N'Sure_?"

"You saw his face Eames" muttered Goren "He knew. Nearly fainted when he saw what was in these. And to answer your other question? Pool was either sure these were the right ones or could not bring himself to open them again"

"Not trophies then?"

"More a burden...a penance?"

"Oh yeah?"

She knew him well enough to know Goren was still working that idea through in his head.

"Lieutenant!" yelled a voice from below "There's a Monsignor Miller at the front door"

"And now the fun really begins" muttered Eames.

_**To be continued...**_


	20. Chapter 20

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Eames returned to her desk to find Goren sitting at it and turning pages of a photograph album. He'd insisted upon bringing those boxes with them in the trunk of the _Chevy a_nd two were stacked up beside him.

She skirted round them to get to the side table where she had her own coffee machine.

"You want one?" she waited.

"Goren I said do you..."

"Oh yeah thanks"

Eames poured for them both and thinking not for the first time about the fascination he seemed to have for pictures. It was true that his apparently casual observations had given them leads in the past, but seeing him now, she wondered. As he looked at pages seemed to contain images from long ago in the life of Father Pool.

Whether some of that curiosity sprang from the disruption and dislocation of Goren's own childhood. One where either no precious _"family album" _was kept or got destroyed or lost along the way.

Goren set it aside just managing not to spill coffee over her desk in the process.

"Miller giving you a hard time?"

"Not as much as I expected. Pool is going through booking and they have not mentioned sending for anyone else. Perhaps spiritual guidance will be enough?"

"Or Miller knows more than just canon law" suggested Goren.

"Could be" mused Eames "Did you solve your St Lucy problem yet?"

"Not yet"

"We could always ask him...but that would spoil your fun wouldn't it?"

"Taking the fifth on that one Eames" he acknowledged.

_**Observation Room, SVU, Manhattan**_

Cragen watched as Eames led Father Pool and Monsignor Miller through the case primarily to bring the latter up to speed, but also to make it clear in advance there was very little room for the priest to try to talk his way out of anything.

Beside her Goren said nothing, just put on the table various elements of the evidence they had. Including some of the paper from El Paso and the photographs of the bodies when they were found. He saw the Monsignor swallow hard again at that point. At the further realisation of the true horror and that this was not going to turn out to be some unfortunate mistake after all.

Eames only asked one question during that time, hoping to catch Pool off guard. He denied ever having visited Arizona though it was obvious he was very uncomfortable with it. And almost certainly lied.

When Miller asked for a few minutes alone, he switched off the sound and watched Goren carefully remove everything except the most recent pictures taken in the lab. The two, still contorted and blackened bodies of Andrew London and Juan Mendoza. Their shrunken lips forming a horrible gaping grin of teeth and shrivelled gums.

"Didn't like the Arizona question did he?" Cragen observed as they joined him.

"No" said Eames "Probably didn't think we had made the connection to there. But so far, we can't prove he was ever in the state. Never mind abducting boys from places nearly four hundred miles apart"

"Or three years apart" added Goren who was re-arranging items in his folder.

"Was he in Texas at that time?" frowned Cragen.

"That's our other problem" muttered Eames "For that whole period Father Mark was in New York. At a parish in Westchester County. Juan had probably been dead a year before he went to El Paso"

_**Interview Room 2, SVU**_

"Did you also put the body of a second boy into a packing crate?" asked Eames.

"Yes I did"

"Do you know the name of that boy?"

"No I do not"

"Did you move, or allow to be moved, that crate from your residence in El Paso to New York?"

"Yes I did"

Goren sat chin in hand listening to a litany of confession from the priest. It was not a particular shock to either of them when he announced his intention to admit to all he had been accused of. How much of that was personal realisation of the situation and how much he had been legally and pastorally guided by Monsignor Miller, hardly mattered.

But it was the nature of the confession that was interesting him and had long since started to irritate Eames. Had always been able to sense her body language beside him and she was doing a pretty good job of keeping frustration out of her voice. Father Pool was _"giving"_ them nothing. Zero. Zilch. Nada.

Nothing approaching justification or explanation. And not an iota of additional detail. Eames was having to wring every _"yes"_ or _"no"_ or almost monosyllabic answer from him.

Sitting back in the chair was always a sign between them that it was time to pass the baton. Time to try a different voice, a different approach or time to switch the subject. Occasionally, it was just a signal that one of them had enough. On this occasion Goren guessed it was probably all those things as Eames sat back.

"Did you kill Juan Mendoza?" he asked keeping the same matter of fact tone Eames had used.

"No I did not"

"Did you kill Andrew London?"

"No"

"Do you know how either boy came to die?"

"I do not"

"Do you know who did kill those boys?"

That was the moment Pool's mouth seemed to open and then shut.

"I'll ask you again. Do you know who killed those boys?"

"No comment"

"Who killed them?" asked Goren

"No comment"

"Detective I think perhaps..." Miller began

"I agree. You need some time" said Goren standing up and hoping to hell Eames would follow his lead.

_**Observation Room, SVU**_

"Huh" snorted Novak to John Munch.

"So much for Goren's reputation...SID?...trained interrogator...my Aunt Fanny!"

"What about her counsellor?" said Goren almost knocked her over as he came into the confined space with Eames behind him.

"I believe" said Munch to cover the ADA's blushes "Casey thinks you should have gone for the jugular"

"Really?" he shrugged reaching for a water bottle and watching the conversation inside the room.

"What are they doing?" asked Eames as the two priests turned away from the two- way.

She did not entirely agree with the decision to leave. But she was starting to get mentally frayed with the demeanour of Mark Pool and would not be seen to disagree with Goren in front of someone like Casey Novak. She had never much rated her.

"I expect he's confessing to the Monsignor"

Eames took a drink from the bottle he handed her "That he killed the boys?"

"No" said Goren "That he knows who did, that he helped cover it up and so on. And he's probably seeking guidance on the seal of the confessional"

"Am I the only one who is lost here?" asked Munch.

"You're not alone" snorted Novak.

"I think I'm with you Goren" said Eames slowly "You think he does know who killed the boys because whoever did it...told him...in a formal confession?"

Goren nodded "And that means Father Pool is bound by a sacrament of the Church. He cannot reveal to us what he was told by a third party"

Novak groaned and Munch made some comment he thought being a Jew was complicated.

"Still a theory though Goren" Novak had recovered herself a little.

"If he says something like..._I cannot tell you_...the next time he's asked that question? Take it from me, I'm right"

Novak made no reply. She could see why half of her colleagues had complained about this self confident jerk at some time or other. What she had yet to see was why the other half thought he was the best thing since deep crust pepperoni.

She found that out ten minutes later.

As the words _"I'm sorry I cannot tell you"_ came out of the mouth of Father Mark Pool.

_**To be continued...**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

"Just do your best huh?"

Eames and Goren continued to chew a very late lunch and waited until Novak was out of ear shot.

"I wonder which of the words _we'll be wasting our time_ she doesn't understand?"

"I get the feeling she doesn't like me" Goren shrugged.

Eames snorted and almost choked herself "Plenty of people don't like you Goren. It never bothered you before. You must be getting sensitive in your old age"

"All my supply of sensitive was used up a week after I joined _Major Case_ Eames"

She ignored the jibe at her "You miss it don't you Bobby?"

"Never thought about it" he said quietly.

Eames could almost see him shut down and wished she could take that back. She had stepped on an area Goren was either already sensitive about or was not ready to discuss with her, even in the abstract.

"Two other questions then?"

"Go on" she could see he was wary.

"First. Do you want that pickle?"

In reply he pushed it across the desk to her.

"And second?"

"Forget all this confession business. Why would Father Mark get himself involved in covering up two murders? That goes beyond his vocational obligations. Way beyond"

"I think the better question is _who _he would cover up for" said Goren visibly warming to the subject again.

Eames thought a moment "Agreed. Got to be someone he felt an intense loyalty towards. Another priest?"

"Seems most likely. And I think we are either looking for someone his own age...someone he went to boarding school with or a classmate at the main seminary...or...an older man"

"The brother and father figures he never had growing up" said Eames who knew the way Goren's mind worked.

He tapped the photo album on the desk "Good chance that person is in here"

She watched him for a moment unpacking the boxes to find the best place to start. Thinking Father Pool's situation not unlike Goren's own and fully understanding why he must have been tempted to warn John Dwyer when his name came into the frame.

"Something wrong Eames?" he suddenly asked.

"No...no"

The last thing he would have ever wanted was any expression of sympathy for what happened to him as a kid.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

"...yes we will want a crib...uhuh...okay...thanks"

Caro put down the receiver and returned her card to her wallet. Then she picked up again. As the number she was calling rang and rang, she watched Joel playing at her feet. Threading some coloured balls around the loops of a maze toy his concentration was intense and his left hand dominance seemed more certain with every passing day.

"Let's hope that's all you get from Daddy" she muttered as once again the voice mail service to Rob's cell failed to kick in and he failed to answer.

"Come on sunshine. We have to go upstairs"

She picked up their son who began to protest, until he realised the toy was going with them.

_**The Holding Cells, SVU, Manhattan**_

"I really am sorry Lieutenant Eames but you know I cannot tell you"

His regret sounded genuine.

"I understand that Father...don't agree with it but you'll be taken to arraignment soon and after that I can't say what will happen to you"

Eames had a pretty good idea that Pool family money would meet the financial aspects of any bail he was probably a good candidate to get. And provided he surrendered his passport, the Church would have any number of places he might stay that would meet the conditions of the court while he awaited trial. He had probably been told that by Monsignor Miller or the _"civilian"_ lawyer who had turned up at his mother's behest.

"I'm sure you never wanted to get involved in this, have lived daily with your guilt and wished you could turn the clock back. I wonder if the person you are protecting appreciates that"

She could see that touched on a wound she and Goren were certain was there. A quick flip through the photograph albums at the start had revealed something very curious. Certain pictures had been removed. A number which covered the period when Father Mark was at the now defunct _"St Peter and St Paul"_ seminary upstate and then others throughout the years between then and his appointment to _Our Lady_ in Brooklyn. It did not take a genius to work out that they probably included images of the person Pool was shielding.

Either actively seeking to _"protect"_ them or, as Goren was inclined to believe, because the priest could not bear to be reminded of the person who had led or tricked him into complicity. Someone he had not seen or photographed for five years, since all the later pages and albums were intact.

Before she could speak again Father Pool cut her off "Should I have my lawyer present Lieutenant?"

Any slight shred of sympathy she might have felt for him vanished at that moment when it seemed like he was willing to hide behind that collar round his neck and the law.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

With Joel content to play on the floor, Caro hefted the first of their bags onto the blanket box. Carefully removing Rob's things and placing them neatly on their bed.

She muttered her irritation and found a clip on a dresser to hold back the hair she was not going to get cut today.

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

"No luck I take it" said Goren in response to Eames muttering on her return.

"No but I did what Casey wanted"

"Look at this Eames"

Goren handed her the magnifying glass and pointed to the part of a picture he wanted her to study.

"It's a cactus"

"Yes but not just any cactus. That's a saguaro. And the state flower of Arizona is the saguaro cactus blossom"

"Isn't _Google _an amazing invention" she said

"It is but I learned that when we were investigating a death at the _Yuma Proving Grounds_" he responded "What I learned from _Google_ is the distribution of the saguaro and the fact it's possible to make beer from the sap"

"Can't see it taking off at _Roark's._ So what is the distribution of the saguaro?"

"Right along the border from Southern California to Texas but the greatest numbers are in Arizona. Now we know this picture was taken before our priest was living in El Paso. Wonder if he was ever in Southern California?"

"You can try asking him Goren but he asked me just now if his lawyer should be present"

"Should have asked him if he expected legal representation on _Judgement Day_" he murmured.

"Forget that" said Eames looking again at the picture.

"I've seen this guy in the blue shirt before. And so have you"

Goren frowned "The one with the cleft chin? Sure he's been in a lot of them. Since the seminary"

"Yes" said Eames "We found his name on the back...Carl Bowyer..."

Goren got an accidental elbow to the midriff as she reached across him for a later album. From it Eames pulled some yet to be mounted pictures.

"Look. Pool was still in contact with Bowyer last Thanksgiving"

Goren looked at the picture he had not seen before which showed Bowyer, Pool and the elderly matriarch Mrs Pool.

"I'll give her a call. Find out where he is" said Eames

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich.**_

Caro Goren cut the line to Rob's still unresponsive cell and voice mail. The next number she dialled was for a taxi.

_**The Parking Lot, SVU, Manhattan**_

"_Aargh!"_

Goren rubbed his head where it had come into sharp contact with the dash of Eames' _Malibu_. Realising his cell phone was missing and remembering that he last had it on the return trip from _Sacred Heart_; he was fumbling around under the seat. Each time it seemed to evade his fingertips and slide further back.

He opened the rear door, retrieved it without trouble and automatically checked the log.

"Damn" he muttered in response to the news there were four missed calls from his home number.

He called back immediately and made a mental note to get onto his service once again about the intermittent problem with his voice mail.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

The cab was at the end of the street when the answer machine clicked on to take Goren's call.

_**To be continued...**_


	22. Chapter 22

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Eames and Goren met in the bullpen.

"Something wrong with your cell?" she asked seeing him fiddling with it.

"No...not sure. Left it in your car so I missed a some calls and it's not switching to voice mail"

More concerned at that moment with her own issues, she did not enquire further.

"Mrs Pool" Eames said archly "Is refusing to speak to us. Not even the suggestion it might save her son further and worse charges, would move her"

Goren scratched the back of his head and frowned "What about Miller? Is he still around?"

"Yeah he's...if anyone can he can..."

He left her to locate the Monsignor while he went to her desk to make a quick list of things he might help them with. Again he got the answer machine. And a little worried.

_**Interview Room 2, SVU**_

"Thanks for your time Monsignor" said Eames politely "We think you may be able to help us"

"Go on"

"We are trying to track down a couple of old friends of Father Pool. Individuals he was the seminary with and who we know entered the priesthood"

They could see Miller measuring his thoughts and his words before he spoke.

"You place me in a difficult position, Detectives. I cannot begin to excuse what Mark has done...nor understand it. But you must understand...my hesitation to help you with anything that would...give him further difficulty"

"Have you heard of obstructing justice?" asked Goren so curtly it caused Eames to flinch.

"I have"

"What about the fifth commandment...thou shalt not..."

"Goren be quiet" Eames snapped to shut him up before he totally screwed this up.

"Monsignor" she began again "Part of what we have to do as cops is to find evidence that someone did not commit a crime, both in the interests of justice and to help us identify who did. At the moment, there is none to support the idea that Father Mark killed those boys but given what he has admitted, you must understand that others will find it hard to believe he didn't. And there is no certainty of a jury or judge being at all sympathetic about his reasons for withholding information"

She knew she had been using words to give time for the tension to subside which Goren had so recklessly created.

"We are also bound to continue our investigation and to take that wherever it leads us"

"And you think these two people might further exonerate Mark?"

"Yes"

"Or be guilty themselves?"

"That's always possible Monsignor"

"And it might help the Church" added Goren "If it was seen to co-operate fully on this occasion"

Only a knock at the door stopped Eames from telling him to leave the room. The message that Captain Chater was on the phone gave her an excuse to send him out.

Goren went leaving her the list and in fairly short order she had a promise from Miller. To locate the present whereabouts of Carl Bowyer and Thomas O'Malley, a second friend who had featured in Pool's photographs for years. He hesitated about the list of faculty from when Pool was at seminary, probably because of the time it would take, but Eames got his agreement.

"How long since Detective Goren left the Church?" Miller asked as he was about to leave.

"I really don't know Monsignor. Many years I believe"

The Monsignor smiled "And how do I know? Usually it's only Catholics who would speak to a priest that way and secondly? Most Christian denominations label _thou shall not kill_ as the sixth commandment, not the fifth as Detective Goren referred to it"

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

"That was not helpful Goren" Eames rounded on him as soon as she saw him.

"I know. I...um...sorry"

She was not prepared to forgive him that easily "What did Chater have to say?"

"DNA confirms the Caucasian boy is definitely Andrew London. And then he went on a fishing expedition to discover what leads we might have on his real killer"

"Night boss" called a couple of people on their way out.

Eames glanced at her watch and sighed at the time it was.

"Told him we've got the body so until someone says otherwise it's our...your case"

She sat down wearily at her desk "There's part of me would send it back to Arizona, not that they did such a great job last time"

"In their defence?" Goren mused "I know they let themselves be swayed by the idea the kid was part of a series, but looking at what they had to go on it wasn't much. A dark probably black saloon car might have nothing..."

Eames waited for Goren to think it through and go on.

"Eames? Everyone from the parents to Art Drummond is sure Randy was not a runaway and a smart kid...not the sort easily...lured away...if the driver of that car was involved, stopped or slowed...what kind of stranger might he feel he could trust?"

"Cop in uniform or...or a priest" she replied "I have some things I must...think you could start to track down cars Pool owned...if only to eliminate him...guess it could have been hired though..."

"Yes" said Goren slowly with a glance at the clock "Um..."

"What's wrong" she frowned "And please...Bobby... none of that _nothing _BS I let you get away with too often at times"

"The calls I missed were from Caro...and I haven't been able to raise her at home"

"Oh lord...you think something's...Joel sick or..."

"No, no" he said quickly "If it was that she would have called here...tracked me down somewhere...but...um..."

Eames knew they had reached the point where he was not going to say any more.

"Go home" she said kindly "Go home and thanks...I just remembered you worked your leave to help me out...say thanks to Caro for me too"

It was only after he had gone, did Eames remember they were supposed to be going on vacation tomorrow. And she had been making a mental list of what she and Goren needed to do next

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich  
**_

By the time Goren parked the _Focus_ by the side of their property, he was beginning to get anxious. He'd tried twice more from the car to get hold of his wife and the moment he turned his key in the basement door, he was almost certain she was not home. She'd set the alarm.

Inside, the house was unnaturally quiet and uncharacteristically tidy. None of Joel's toys around in the living area, Caro's purse missing from the kitchen counter where it usually lived and as he went up to the ground floor, the shades were drawn in the dining and sitting rooms.

Entering their bedroom on the second, the first thing he noticed was that the vacation luggage had gone from by the door. Then he saw two neat piles of his clothes left on the bed. Arranged with almost military precision. And between his wash kit and some shoes in bags, there was an envelope with his name on it.

Dreading the prospect that Caro was saying she was leaving him, taking his son away, returning to her parents in Maryland and even more hideous scenarios, he tore it open with hands which shook a little.

Inside was his return ticket to Los Angeles and a note. He even double checked the envelope to be sure she had not left her wedding ring in it before he opened the page. He sat down hard on the bed and read:

_Rob – as the day has gone on and after what you said last night, I've decided it's more and more likely you will be not be on the plane with us tomorrow. I don't want us to end up fighting half the night and then have to be up at the crack of dawn to make it to the airport. _

_So I've booked us into a hotel nearby to make it easier for me and for Joel (details by the kitchen phone). If I'm wrong I guess I will see you at check in tomorrow morning._

_I know you feel torn right now, I think I understand why and I can't say I would never struggle with the same kind of thing. Don't worry about us – we'll be fine._

_All our love as always_

_Caro & Joel xxx_

_**To be continued...**_


	23. Chapter 23

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Jack entered the small room he had used as his _"office"_ since he moved into the apartment. As much _"hers"_ these days as it was his and at least the heap of files Alex was working through had gone down since the last time he brought her in a cup of coffee.

"Al" he sighed "Please quit that now. I'm sure it can wait until tomorrow and...you didn't drink hardly any of this"

He picked up the cup, mildly concerned how tired she looked when she glanced up.

"Just a couple more Jack. This paperwork is past due and tomorrow I need to move forward on the two boys and then work out who I can re-assign come Monday"

"I thought Munch was working that one with you and Bobby?"

"Bobby is not exactly on our payroll and thanks to _Procredit_ we fell behind on the girl from _Gibbs and Hardy_"

"What did they do?" he asked in one of his rare forays into the details of a case.

They both tried to keep their overlapping work interests separate. Apart from possible conflict of interest, it would be too easy for _"crime, criminals & the law"_ to take over their domestic lives as well. But it did sometimes make it hard for either of them to unburden themselves at the end of a tough day or week.

"Screwed up the credit card statements we wanted to find out what Lydia had been doing and where she was going since Christmas" she muttered.

"Sent us over the records for a _Linda _Giambi and what with everything else, no-one realised until it was too late"

"And some minor functionary there won't release them without the authority of someone higher up who has gone to the _Hamptons_ for the weekend?"

Eames laughed in spite of herself "Close. Skiing in Vermont. Okay I'll..."

She was cut short by the telephone.

"Alex Eames...oh hello Monsignor I didn't expect..."

McCoy closed the door behind him. Trying to exercise patience and knowing Al had done it enough times with him, especially during election time in the Fall.

_**Park Hotel, 156**__**th**__** St, Jamaica, Queens / St Luke's Place, Soho**_

"...course you do. I'm not some dumb criminal you can kid Rob. Practically had to drag you away from some of your former _Narco_ buddies at _Roark's _the other week. And what about that party at Finn's place? You and Mike spent the whole evening..."

"_Okay Caro" he conceded "Point taken. Maybe I do miss it more than I realised? Not sure that's excuse though"_

She was not going to let him slide out too easily "No it isn't. There are parts of my old job I miss too. Mostly the things I enjoy the best"

"_I know" Goren said quietly._

_He knew that was the price she paid when they agreed both to have a baby and to try to raise it as much as possible between them. Not be working half the week just to pay for day care or sitters._

"_You never wish maybe we didn't?...that it was me who...did I pressurise you into having Joel?..."_

"That is foolish" Caro snorted "No. I knew when I agreed to move in with you that you would want kids, even if you never said so at the time...if I never wanted them...or not with you...I'd still be living in Boston"

_From the way she said it, Goren was convinced she might actually think that preferable right now._

"_I'm sorry Caro"_

"Which sorry is that Rob?" she asked "The sorry you were not home this afternoon or the sorry you will not be at the airport in the morning?"

_He thought hard "The sorry that I really don't know"_

"I guess that's some progress"

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"I suppose I'm wasting my breath asking when you will get to LA, if not tomorrow?"

"_I don't know Caro"_

"Don't suppose you do...look Rob, I don't want to give you an ultimatum...but there are limits to my patience..."

**Saturday 20****th**** February**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Eames lay awake willing her brain to shut itself down. Never understood why, even as tired as she was, it kept working. Turning over in a random sequence of thoughts that jumped through from one thing to another problem, as seemingly intractable as the last. Never giving her chance to come to any conclusion.

One issue, on her mind all week, was impossible to resolve on her own and just needed her to...

"_Hhhnnngh"_

She gave Jack a poke in the side so he would turn off his back and not start to snore. The moment that happened, the noise would start to get to her and she would have yet another reason not to be sleeping.

He shifted and the fact he took more than his share of the covers didn't bother her. She suddenly realised she was hot anyway. The secret now was not to get too cold before she got back her half.

The news from Monsignor Miller had not been good. Father Carl Bowyer was currently working with _Catholic Relief Services_ somewhere in Rwanda and even in these days of global communication, getting hold of him might be problematic. The second priest, who was also a classmate from the seminary and featured in Mark Pool's photographs, was dead. Father O'Malley was the victim of road traffic accident near Chicago just before Christmas.

The only good news he had been able to tell her was that neither had ever been assigned to a parish anywhere near Arizona, which probably ruled them both out as potential killers. The information the archaeologist had supplied about the process of _"mummification"_ using natron, said it would take weeks and possibly months to get them to the condition in which they were found. And it would be necessary to keep replacing regularly the substance they knew had been packed around the bodies.

An expert from the FBI Goren had spoken to said much the same. Both confirmed his opinion that meant easy access to a bulky substance and sustained attention to bodies being kept in a hot and dry atmosphere. In other words they were abducted, killed and fully _"mummified"_ in Arizona and only later, moved to Texas.

Which raised the question of _"why"._ Why, when they had been undiscovered for years, suddenly move them?

The only answer she could come up with was either that the unknown person had to relocate somewhere they could not safely take them or, the place where they were kept was no longer going to be so secure or private.

Eames started to shiver, wonder if she was just going down with the flu and carefully extracted some of the bedclothes from Jack's grip.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Goren was sure he'd only slept about two hours all night when he woke again around four thirty. Got up and pulled on some old jogging pants and a sweater against the cold of a house where the heating was yet to fire up.

As he stumbled to the bathroom and then downstairs, he pondered the illogic. It was probably eighteen months since he had spent a night alone. Even when Caro was in hospital after Joel was born, they had managed the one night in a bed which was dangerously narrow for two of them. The staff on maternity split between those who thought it _"sweet"_ he was so reluctant to leave his wife and precious son and those who archly reminded them there were rules on these things.

Yet in the twenty five years before, when someone else in the bed was intermittent and sometimes changing more often than was decent, his frequent problem had been the opposite. Being unable to sleep to the extent he got complaints and at least two relationships never really got off the ground. One time because he insisted he was going home almost immediately _"afterwards"._ And it probably was very tactless to suggest to the other young lady she should do the same. Little wonder amid the epithets which followed, she left her bra in his apartment and he neglected to get her number.

The only other thing Goren could recall about her was that the outraged lady had complete heterochromia. Something that occurred in less than half of one percent of the population, though curiously was more common in women.

He stopped pouring water on the instant coffee as a thought occurred to him.

Ten minutes later he finished making the coffee and returned with it to the desk and the computer.

Luckily he checked the time before calling Eames, who would not appreciate such an early morning awakening. Jack McCoy certainly would not.

He shivered hoping Caro got a full night's sleep with Joel.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN :** _Heterochromia is having eyes which are two different colours._


	24. Chapter 24

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Eames arrived at her desk feeling worse than hung over and with her fourth cup of coffee that morning in her hand.

"_Mmohunck"_ came from the desk.

She had received that grunted greeting so many mornings from Goren. One that told you he was either worse for wear, often following problems with his Mom when she was alive, or engrossed in something and sometimes, both.

A glance over her shoulder as she hung her coat confirmed her initial impression he'd buried her work space with his folder, various papers, a map and one of the priest's photograph albums. She just hoped her eyes did not look as bad from lack of sleep and least she didn't have two days worth of stubble to add to the poor, overall impression.

Eames was sorely tempted to look under the desk. To see if he was still wearing his pyjamas as he'd called so early that morning to say he was on his way to her unit. Except, she had no idea if Goren wore them and the thought of what he may or may not wear in a bed he must have hardly slept in, was more than she could handle right now.

And their earlier conversation, though very brief, had been enough to tell her _"why"_ he was there and what Caro had to say about it, were topics strictly off limits. None of her business any more than her concerns about her future relationship with Jack, was his.

When he finally looked up, Goren saw one of the reasons he was here and not joining the check in line at _JFK _for a flight to Los Angeles. He had not come to terms with the decision he'd finally made just after four thirty that morning about what he _was _doing. As opposed to what he _"should"_ or _"ought"_ to be doing. And Eames looked as bad as he felt.

"_Mission Nuestra Senora y Santa Lucia_" he said.

A glance at Eames told Goren she did not need any of his clever guessing games and teases.

"That St Lucy statue...got me thinking...and a little research turned up a mission founded in 1654 by the Franciscans, who were the order of monks who explored..."

He shut up. Neither would she appreciate a lecture on the historic mission journeys of the seventieth century Spanish Empire in the South West of the USA.

"Where is this mission Goren?" she asked to avoid further diversions.

"Just outside a place called Clemente. Which is in the circulation area for the scrap of paper from _The Explorer_ and sitting on top of a surface deposit of natron" he paused.

"It's also five miles from the settlement where Juan Mendoza was living at the time he vanished"

"And you think that might explain the out-of-place-lady-with-her-eyes-on-a-plate we found at _Sacred Heart_?"

"Not on its own" Goren conceded.

Ten minutes and a potted history of the mission later, Eames was more convinced. Having switched seats, he was fidgeting like a kid waiting to be told if he passed a math test, while she was speaking to someone at the lab.

"Nothing on Pool's computer that will be any help to us and no...kiddie pictures either" she finally told him.

"Guess that's something" shrugged Goren "Means we won't have to deal with that on top of the rest"

"But it sounds like there are two items of interest to us. And the Monsignor might be able to help with this Father Pike you discovered"

"I'll call him if you want"

"No thanks" she growled remembering Goren's attitude yesterday.

_Yesterday?_

It felt more like a week.

_**CSU Lab, 1PP**_

Eames was anxious that they should get to the two bags of evidence that particularly interested her from the general description. But the search for anything incriminating at Father Pool's residence had been painstaking, with all those books and other paperwork that had been gone through. It was polite to let Penny talk them through it.

There was nothing suspect in his financial records, hidden in clothing or taped under drawers. Indeed apart from his books, the priest had very little in the way of personal possessions and the items not simple or basic were easily accounted for. He came from a wealthy family and had well heeled parishioners.

"Explains the tailoring" said Goren reading the description of clothing they had examined.

"Most of this" said the younger woman "Is just scraps of paper...things like the check out ticket for grocery shopping? I think he used them as bookmarks"

Eames could see on the table the two items described to her and Goren itching to pick them up.

She handed the first to him "Does this match anything you found?"

It was a photograph obviously taken to capture the building in the mid foreground. It had the distinctive simple shape of a traditional mission church. One whose lime wash was faded and where large areas of render had fallen away to expose adobe brick beneath. And you did not need a magnifying glass to see that one of the wooden doors, grey with age, was almost off its hinges.

She left Goren flipping through his folder as Penny spoke.

"Here's a copy of the letter for you Lieutenant...could you...only I've got something in the mass spec I need to..."

Eames was barely aware of her leaving as she read the letter missing its envelope. The address was given as a street in Cincinnati where it seemed the writer was visiting family in connection with the funeral of someone called _"Patricia"._ Written to _"Dear Mark"_ it was dated between the disappearances of the two boys and made various references to news of mutual acquaintances.

But most significant were the statements about _"looking forward to seeing you, Tom and Carl in a few weeks"_ and the _"importance of finishing the roof before winter". _It was signed _"Richard"_ and Richard Pike was the priest Goren had come across in his research. The one who had undertaken, more or less single handed, the work of restoring the Mission of Our Lady and St Lucy.

"Goren? Take a look at this" she said leaving it on the bench and ducking behind him to see what he had been doing.

On a picture in his folder, he had drawn a circle around the left hand corner of the lintel above the entrance to the mission church. To the right, Eames could see a stone statue that had to represent St Lucy carrying her eyes on a plate. The photograph Tommy or one of the other technicians had found was identical. St Lucy to the right and no statue on the left where symmetry suggested there should be one of the Virgin Mary.

_**31**__**st**__** Avenue, Astoria, Queens**_

Don Cragen had been tackling the refrigerator when his phone rang. Items of a distinctly dubious and probably dangerous nature from the back had hit the trash.

He'd listened to a very animated, almost excited Alex Eames. She had some of that sparkle back he felt had been missing all week. As she described the leads she and Goren had developed since they spoke last. He did not ask what the heck Goren was doing there when he thought the guy was supposed to be on vacation.

But if he was willing to go with Eames, that was one headache solved and Cragen promised to solve the other. Find a Chief or Deputy Commissioner who could authorise the trip she was proposing to take and he didn't waste time chiding her on presumption. When she said she checked and there were seats available that day.

_**AA Flight 623 NYJFK/LAX**_

For a kid on his first plane trip, Joel had taken to it like a duck to water. Much to Caro's relief. For all she may have said to Rob, she was secretly convinced he'd be impossible with only her to deal with him or try to distract him. Though there was plenty of time left for Joel to change his mind. For her and all the other passengers be reduced to insanity by the time they touched down.

In that ego centric way kids had at that age, he seemed convinced all of this was just for his benefit, the centre of adult attention once again. Of course it helped that the cabin staff seemed to find him cute and passing travellers gave him attention as well. He was starting to wave back to them like a polite, but slightly bored President on a good will tour.

She handed him that squeaky clown he liked so much.

"_Dddaddaa"_ he said gleefully.

Caro could not help thinking maybe she was the clown. For letting his father get off so easily and giving him until Tuesday to make it to LA _"or else"._

"_Or else"_ had not been specified.

Deliberately. To make him sweat.

But almost four days was plenty of time for her to plan the nature and extent of Rob's penance.

Joel began to whine and then she remembered the game Daddy and he usually played with the clown.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN: **_"Clemente" and the mission in AZ are fictional._


	25. Chapter 25

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

"Al are you...?"

Jack halted in the doorway of their room, taking in the bag on the bed and items laid around it.

Alex pulled a top from a drawer and held it up "How hot is it in Southern Arizona this time of year?"

"No idea" he growled "And I guess that's my next question answered"

With that, he turned on his heel with the two sacks of groceries, headed to the kitchen.

Eames paused in her selection, knowing that on this occasion her fiancé was liable to be less understanding. They were supposed to drive up to Connecticut this evening. To have dinner and spend the rest of the weekend with Julie and Andy and little Dawn. Julie was the only one of his three kids Jack had any kind of relationship with and he had not seen his granddaughter since just before Christmas.

She followed him and although they didn't exactly fight, it was a tense conversation as they unpacked the shopping.

"Leave that one to me" said McCoy quickly snatching the second bag from her reach.

He did not want Alex to see the shiny folder containing the tickets and details for the surprise honeymoon he had also booked while he was out.

"And who is going to back you up while you run round the desert tracking down a suspected murdering paedophile?" he muttered.

"If he's still alive he's a guy in his seventies Jack...take this cheese will you?"

"So?"

It occurred to Eames that it never seemed to worry McCoy who was with her when she was _"running around"_ Manhattan after younger, probably more dangerous suspects. But pointing that out was not going to help the situation.

"Chater from _Arizona State_ will meet us" she shrugged "And besides, Bobby is going with me"

"That's something" he muttered.

She only came to harm one time when they were partnered and that was hardly Goren's fault.

"Just a...I thought he was supposed to be in LA?"

"Yeah...well...um...Caro and Joel have gone on ahead"

McCoy did not pursue that. He and Caro could commiserate with each other some other time.

"Maybe fifty five degrees?" he shrugged.

Eames smiled "You're sure?"

"No"

He pulled her into his arms, held her close and started nuzzling her neck.

"How soon do you have to go?"

"Too soon for what you have in mind" she replied pushing his hips away from her.

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

Unable to get hold of Caro, Goren had called their friends in LA so she would know what was happening. _"Her"_ friends more than _"theirs"_ since Amy and John had both been at college with his wife. The couple of times he'd met them he had always sensed Amy, if not her husband, was rather cool, even suspicious of him.

As if Caro might have _"done better",_ though he was prepared to accept that might be down to what she once said were his _"well disguised self esteem issues"_. Whatever it was, he knew the conversation with Amy had done nothing to improve her opinion of him.

And typical of the phone to ring when he was still wet from the shower.

"Goren"

"_Hi y'all"_ said the voice of Art Drummond _"Got the message Bobby and I got a name for y'all"_

The idea had come to him on the drive home that a cop local to the Clemente area, especially one who had been there many years, would be more use to he and Eames. More use than a detective from the State Police was apparently none too pleased to have two NYPD detectives foisted upon him. Making him and others look bad amid the _"shitstorm" _that was already brewing in the whole legal community about the mistakes in the _"London/I17"_ Killer case. One Chater feared was only a matter of time before it hit the media.

Speaking to Sheriff Drummond, Goren wished he had three hands. One to hold the receiver, one to write on the pad by the phone and one to hold onto the fast slipping towel.

_**JFK Airport, Queens, New York.**_

As Eames' cell began to chirp, Goren took from her automatically the carry on into which she had managed to cram what she hoped was all she would need for a couple of days.

"Eames? Oh hello Monsignor..."

Goren set his folder and pen on the first vacant table of the coffee shop and pointed across the concourse. She nodded in understanding he was off to do what he said as they waited to check in his bag. See if he could charm some kind of deal from the airline on the unused half of his ticket to LA and get a flight to there from Phoenix on Tuesday. Bobby had not said much beyond he'd hire a car and drive there if he had to. And Eames was sure he both meant it and would be in deep trouble if he did not stick to the plan this time.

By the time he returned, she been able to get them both a cup of the sludge that passed as coffee at most airports she had ever been through.

"Any luck?" she asked as he pulled the seat under him.

"Got a flight. What did Miller have to say?"

Eames passed him her notes and watched him checking some dates off against a timeline he had printed from the basic website of the _Mission of Our Lady and St Lucy._

"Kind of fits" she observed.

"More so if we can narrow down more exact dates from some kind of curator Eames"

"Let's hope Chater is successful in locating someone" she said watching a woman who was apparently travelling alone.

Struggling with a baggage cart and two fractious kids.

_**Delta 4185 JFK/Sky Harbour, Phoenix**_

By the time they had reached cruising height, Eames was aware that Goren was asleep. Like her he probably needed to catch up on some, but it was what she had seen him do frequently on the occasions they had flown together. Made her life easier too, because if he wasn't sleeping or didn't have something interesting to read, Bobby was a nightmare.

Fidgeting about in a seat space she knew was uncomfortable for him and the time they flew to Vietnam, she could have happily pushed him out of the plane over the Pacific. He'd slept, finished his own book, read the in flight magazine and the safety leaflet. Was, like her, bored of the movie in ten minutes and she had snatched her magazine back from him the moment he tried to discuss with her what she found _"erotic"._ She had forgotten about that article when she offered it to him.

Somehow she managed to slide Goren's folder from the seat pocket against which one denim clad knee was jammed. Eames felt she really ought to acquaint herself rather better with the history and geography of this mission they aimed to see tomorrow.

_**Sky Harbour Airport, Phoenix, Arizona**_

It was dark and rather strange to see the stars after the heavy cloud seemed to have hung over New York for weeks. It was also noticeably warmer as the younger cop who had accompanied Dave Chater, hefted their bags into the rear of the SUV being loaned to them.

He gestured them to the _Ford_ saloon also parked in the _"no waiting"_ zone and Goren made automatically for the rear. From where he was sitting it was obvious the detective had either resigned himself to the situation or been ordered to. Making only mildly positive or at worst, neutral comments in response to what Eames was saying about their discoveries and theories.

Goren tried not to get frustrated he could not read the thin folder of material Chater had handed them. Additional information Monsignor Miller had faxed through to State Police HQ while he and Eames were in flight. But Chater had broken the good news Pike was still alive and living in Phoenix.

"Even supposing you're right" he said manoeuvring through traffic "I don't see how you will prove any of this. I doubt there will be anything in the way of forensic or other evidence left to find"

"You never know" said Eames neutrally and resisting the temptation to point out that had not prevented a jury from convicting the wrong man in the London case.

"Perhaps he's ready to confess?" the AZ detective mused.

They had already agreed on the plane that was their best hope, but knew they would have to dig up something more on Father Pike before they could even consider him more than a potential witness.

_**To be continued...**_


	26. Chapter 26

**Sunday 21****st**** February**

_**Service Area, I10, Nr Tucson, Arizona**_

"Chater's co-operation obviously didn't extend as far as making sure the tank was full" muttered Eames stepping hard on the brake.

Goren said nothing as he got out the passenger door and went to pump gas. He guessed part of her irritation was that she getting hungry. They'd left the hotel early to make the drive south and their planned rendezvous with Sheriff Kate Denver of Clemente County. Or, more accurately, her predecessor and father who had been in charge for all of the years when Father Pike was at the Mission.

"Usual order?" she asked him.

"Please"

He took the keys to move off the stand once he was done and ready to join her in the diner.

_**Peggy's Diner, I10, Nr Tucson, Arizona**_

Eames left the restroom, pulled her shades from her head and had them on before she was out of the lobby and back in the mid-morning sun. Goren was off to one side of the parking lot, phone to his ear and pacing. She was about to go over to him to ask for the keys, but she changed her mind.

Remembering that by the time they reached the hotel last night, Caro had already gone to bed in LA and Goren had not wanted to annoy her even more with a dawn call that morning. She waited by the SUV trying not to show any impatience and have a little compassion. He might not say much, but she could tell Bobby was having a hard time with all of this. Probably giving himself one as much as Caro was making his life very uncomfortable and Eames felt a little guilty herself.

That she should have said _"No"_ to this very firmly. Instead of being selfish. Wanting the confidence and security of Goren with her at a time she was feeling very pressured, uncertain and vulnerable. _Except...except to admit that was to admit maybe she wasn't handling the promotion, the job and...the last thing she was going to do was cry._

"Uhuh...that sounds like fun...catch up on old times"

Goren forced himself to say that. He knew this conference in LA would be a time when Caro would get the chance to meet up with professional colleagues and acquaintances. What he had not realised was that one of them would be Ben Grant. A shrink she had been seriously involved with in Boston and whose praises Amy had not hesitated to sing one time. How handsome he was, how clever and how they had all been sure it would end in marriage.

But standing by the side of freeway five hundred miles from where he was supposed to be, was not the time to get insecure and jealous about an ex.

"Are you all going out to dinner tonight?"

"_Yes Rob"_

He sensed Caro stopped herself saying _"All except you"_

"_Victoria is going to watch Joel"_

"Victoria_"_ was Amy and John's eldest. A sophomore at UCLA.

"Think he'll be okay with her?"

"_Hardly the time for you to be questioning the suitability of a babysitter now is it?"_

It wasn't. And that hurt.

"No Caro. Is Joel about?"

"_Uhuh...Joel come say hello to Daddy"_

At least his son seemed to remember who he was, even though he could not relay to Mommy that his Daddy loved them both, missed them and would see them soon.

_**Sam's Steakhouse, Clemente, AZ**_

The place was quite full with people dressed like they had been to church and men more casually attired having very late breakfasts.

"Detective Eames!" called a stentorian voice from across the room.

"So much for sneaking into town unnoticed" she muttered over her shoulder to Goren.

As they crossed the room, they were acutely aware of eyes on them and it didn't take a genius to know as the only _"strangers"_ in the place, former Sheriff Denver would have no difficulty spotting them. He rose from the table removing his hat to reveal a bald head fringed with grey curls. His scalp lighter than the rest of his skin from wearing the _Stetson._

And Eames had to smile as rarely, Goren found himself looking up into blue eyes. Was not often he was almost dwarfed by another man. Especially one in his late sixties.

"Alex" she said hoping he'd not wrench her arm shaking her hand.

"And Bobby Goren"

"Howdy" he took Goren's hand and they all sat down.

A tray of coffee and muffins seemed to appear from no-where as Goren sat and handed the keys back to Eames.

She left it to him to tell Frank Denver the parts of the story he may not know.

"No" the older man shook his head "Never had any suspicion he was...you know. No complaints about his behaviour but...but it's not like the Mission was an active parish by then and Pike didn't ever seem to encourage visitors of any age. What makes you think..?"

"He moved around a lot of parishes in Ohio and Pennsylvania before he found his way to the seminary" said Goren.

"It's where he met the priest who has admitted to moving and concealing the bodies. And...um...that pattern fits the pattern of previous abusers in the church"

"Guess it does" said Denver "I read about some of them"

"Do you ever remember seeing any of these men in the area?"

Goren passed over a photomontage of a dozen men, three of whom were Pool and his two friends referred to in the letter CSU found.

"I know from time to time he had various helpers out there"

Denver removed spectacles from his pocket and studied them.

"Sometimes it was local workmen. Once there were three or four archaeology students from _Arizona State_...this one I'm sure came into town for supplies"

He'd pointed to Carl Bowyer with the distinctive cleft to his chin.

"Had another guy with him but I can't be sure. Sorry"

"Okay" said Eames casually.

They still had hopes of testimony from Bowyer when he could be tracked down in Rwanda.

"Pike's vehicle?" asked Goren "What did he drive while he was here?"

Chater or one of his men was supposed to be checking old DMV records, but given how long ago it was, they might need a back up position.

Denver's expression was one of someone flicking through his visual memory "I'm sure it was a _Taurus"_

Goren and Eames glanced at each other. It fit with the type of car the witness in Coyote saw the day Andrew London disappeared.

"Black or very dark blue" added the older man "But I can take y'all to someone who will know"

_**Baker's Gas Station & Auto Repair**_

It had taken him a little while, but Buddy Baker did locate his information on the black _Ford Taurus_ he knew he had filled with gas and repaired throughout the time Father Pike was out at the mission.

It might be one of only five commercial premises in town and in need of a coat of paint, but Buddy kept very detailed records. Goren scanned them while both he and Denver confirmed to Eames that Pike made occasional trips elsewhere in the State. Often to see or pick up items he thought might come in useful for the refurbishment of the Mission which had been stripped of anything useful during the time it was abandoned for almost fifty years.

"This tow and repair to the suspension?" he asked.

Baker looked at it and chuckled "Darn fool got himself stuck out on _The Flats_ onetime"

"The natron flats?" asked Goren quickly.

"Uhuh. What the hell he was doing out there I don't know. Cracked a shock and the suspension arm on a rock when it sank"

"Five days after the London boy vanished" said Eames looking at where Goren was pointing.

"What's this all about Frank?"

"Y'all mind your own for the time being Buddy" said Denver "Can we borrow this? Take a copy down at the office?"

"Sure" shrugged the mechanic returning his attention to a pick up.

_**To be continued...**_


	27. Chapter 27

"_**The Flats", Clemente**_

Frank Denver's _"short cut"_ to the Mission meant they went across the edge of the area once exploited commercially for the natron deposits. Hard to imagine as they bumped and rolled over dirt track behind his pick up, that this place was ever an inland sea. Now it just looked like the rest of the area. A scrub desert with only the occasional mesquite or saguaro rising above the low level and scant vegetation.

The saguaro cactus that had first given Goren a clue to Pool's connection with this area. On the plane Eames had come across the numerous notes he'd made about the species and no doubt filed away in his head for the future.

Though her mind was more on following Denver and not straying off his tracks less she do to the State Police vehicle, what Pike had done with his car. Allow the thin crust which wind, sand and rain could form over hollows, to fool her into thinking the ground solid. A four wheel had its limits. Even with two big guys to push it out if necessary.

At one point Denver had stopped and explained something about _The Flats_. How the natron had been excavated leaving extensive depressions in the ground. But with other alternatives for its detergent properties and as a flux in metal working, the local industry had closed down in his grandfather's youth. Windblown sand had since reduced the depth of the workings, but natron was still found close to the surface and he understood it was quite pure.

They had walked a few yards off the track and watched Goren dig maybe a foot down with a spade they had brought with them. Eames could see how at that level, the material he scooped into a sample tube was close to white. It could be tested later, but she knew to take his word that colouring indicated almost pure natron.

Goren did his best with the pitch and bumps of the vehicle not to blacken his eye with the viewfinder of the field glasses.

"Eames?"

She looked in the direction he was pointing and could see in the distance the outline of the building they were heading for.

_**Mission of Our Lady & St Lucy**_

Eames was no expert on the Franciscan missions or their history, but even she suspected this one was a little unusual in never having had a settlement of any size grow up nearby or around it like _"The Alamo"_. And had heard tell how some visitors to San Antonio were disappointed it was not like it was _"in the movies"_. How these days, it sat in the Downtown area with a modern hotel and a _"Ripleys"_ as two of its nearest neighbours.

As they approached, she could see the distinctive simple shape and a stepped facade up to a single bell housing. A bell Goren told her had come from a school house somewhere and was not the original.

They parked at _"the back"_ where there were two other vehicles.

"I'll leave Mrs Barry to show y'all round" said Denver after making the introductions.

Mrs Barry was one of the volunteers for the _Arizona Historic Monument Society_ which had taken over running of the site when Father Pike was despatched into retirement and they believed he asked Mark Pool to dispose of two bodies. It would certainly be reason enough to explain their possible removal to Texas at that time. He could not take them with him or risk them being discovered near the Mission.

Not when they had seen the extent of the areas that were behind chain link fencing. It seemed there was an intermittent but extensive archaeological dig going on all around to identify the dimensions of the Mission in its heyday. When there would have been quarters for the monks, buildings associated with the farm they tended to feed themselves and almost certainly facilities like an infirmary and accommodation for travellers.

Eames and Goren listened politely to the talk she was there to give visitors two half days during the winter season and four in summer. They were not really interested in the line of trees marked the course of the creek which ran all year, nor of the vision of St Lucy which apparently guided a group of lost and seriously dehydrated monks this way.

She almost regretted asking about the small building to the left of where they were standing. They got an extended history before Mrs Barry got to what they really wanted to know.

How, after the decline and final abandonment of the Mission by a religious community, it had served as the home for various priests for about one hundred and fifty years.

"Of course in those days there was a much bigger population living and working on the surrounding ranches" she explained.

"Did Father Pike live there?" Eames asked unable to contain herself any longer.

"Yes. They patched it up for him to live in rather than him lodge locally or drive out from Clemente. Over here we hope to have a proper visitor centre one day but that..."

The guide turned around to realise her two charges were not following.

"Could we see inside the church now?" asked Goren.

As they walked towards it, Eames had to concede whatever his crimes might be Father Pool had undertaken a _Herculean_ task in the years he was at the Mission. To bring it back from the ruin visible in older photographs to the place it was today. The exterior almost shone in the sun with the walls repaired and lime washed.

It was the same inside once you got used to the dim light. Without access to glass the original builders had stuck to small windows which originally would have been covered by wooden shutters.

"Did you know Father Pike personally?" she asked thinking the large and especially agonised crucifixion above the altar _"out of place"._

"No" said Mrs Barry rather tartly.

"And it's a pity no-one in the church authorities seemed to concern themselves with what he was doing here"

Eames was about to say something when Goren cut across her.

"You're referring to some of the restoration work? That crucifix looks _Gothic Revival_ to me and these pews nothing like the simple benches the monks would have made"

It was a wonder the lady did not put her neck out turning so fast to study a cop who understood right away what she meant. And one as tall as Goren.

"Exactly Mr Goren. That..." she indicated the crucifix "Came from the chapel of the college...the..."

"Seminary?" offered Goren.

"The place he used to teach anyway...I'm not a Catholic myself...and those pews came from a church in Tucson that was largely destroyed by fire and rebuilt in a more contemporary style"

With Goren happy and informed enough to indulge Mrs Barry's indignation on matters of style and appropriate restoration, Eames walked around the church. Then, in one corner, she came across some steps leading down to a door.

"What's down here ma'am?" she called, her voice echoing in the empty building.

Goren made in that direction quite quickly to escape further details about the stone altar. About the only thing not carried off by the locals when the church did not replace the last active priest and merged the parishes. He was not much interested in the estimated weight of the blocks or how far the monks had to go to cut them.

"That's the crypt Detective. The Mission stands on the only bedrock close to the surface in this area. With conditions outside and the limited rock they could cut, the monks used to put their dead down there. Seems un-Christian to me"

"Oh I don't know" shrugged Goren "There are miles of catacombs under Rome used for early Christian burials. Apart from shortage of space they needed secrecy because of persecution"

"I suppose you saw them?" muttered Eames.

"Did actually" Goren conceded quietly before adding "Can we go down and look?"

"It's not usually open to the public but..."

"Will we need torches?" asked Eames making sure Mrs Barry saw the badge clipped to her belt.

"No...no there's a switch by the door...here's the key Mr Goren...and I'd rather not if you don't mind"

"Of course not Mrs Barry. We'll lock up and see you outside"

Eames breathed a sigh of relief they would get time on their own and followed Goren down the steep stone steps.

_**To be continued...**_


	28. Chapter 28

_**The Crypt, Mission of Our Lady & St Lucy**_

They stood for a moment to allow their eyes to get accustomed to the semi darkness which was all that was afforded by half a dozen light bulbs, one of which was out anyway.

The small, rectangular space they were in only just allowed Goren to stand upright. Ahead was a shallow recess in the rough cut rock and to either side, cramped passageways extended for maybe fifteen feet.

Eames edged round him and even she almost had to slide in sideways to fit into the space.

"There's ledges cut in here Goren...three...six in all. Just about long and wide enough to fit an average sized man"

"They were smaller in those days and the ledges are called _loculi_"

He stuck his head into the opposite opening and counted the same number.

"Once the body was reduced to a skeleton they used to place the bones in an urn or a box called an ossuary...and what's so funny Eames?

She wiped the smile off her face "I was just remembering how I used to think you were a big headed geek...until I realised you can't help having a sponge for a brain"

"Good idea Eames. To cover up one insult with another"

He grabbed the flex from one of the overhead lights and shone it around.

"Can't smell any dampness down here and there's no sign of any either"

"Was thinking that myself...and that there would be space to secretly mummify two bodies and then store them"

"We can have the local CSU crawl over this place Eames but I doubt..."

"Me too. Been too long and too many other people down here contaminating any evidence"

Goren squatted, rubbing his fingers through some dust and sand and looking for any tell tale white crystals. Given the geology, for natron to be found in this space it had to have been introduced by human hand.

"_**The Visitor Centre", Mission of Our Lady & St Lucy**_

It was an exaggeration to give that title to the largest of the rooms in the house that had once served as the home for the incumbent priests. The second was the office and _"gift shop"_ and wedged between them, a bathroom.

Goren left Eames across the hall to call Chater about a technical team and to explain as little as possible to Mrs Barry. He confined himself to some second hand display cabinets containing bits of pottery and some bones identified as _"equine". _Discovered during excavation at a level consistent with the founding of the Mission. It was easy to forget that until the Spanish and other colonisers arrived in the America's, there were no horses or donkeys.

"Thanks"

He took from Eames the can of soda she had extracted from the machine just inside the door and gestured to some newspaper articles reproduced on the wall.

"I must be missing something Goren" Eames frowned.

"Why is the fact a few people still come here to celebrate _St Lucy's Day_ of any help to us?"

"It's not but this might be"

Goren tapped a card in the corner which read _"Please ask to see the full collection of printed articles about the Mission"._

Eames groaned "And there was I looking forward to a burger and all the trimmings at a place Frank says is not far away"

"I'll go" he offered "Bring you something back?"

She showed him her badge. Pointing out wordlessly where hers read _"Lieutenant"_.

_**The Office, Mission of Our Lady & St Lucy**_

Goren could understand with her shift over, why Mrs Barry was keen to get home to spend the rest of the day with her family. Almost had to sign in triplicate and get Sheriff Denver to vouch for him, before she would leave him the key to the building.

But whatever the eccentricities she and other volunteers might have, someone had done a good job to gather and file in order the extracts and articles gleaned from many sources. It meant he and Frank who had offered to help, could go through them more quickly and Goren knew the Sheriff might be able to fill in any missing information.

"Bobby? I found something. Here's that guy with the dimple in his chin"

Goren switched sides of the table to look.

The item was about the completion of the repairs to the roof of the Mission. The sort of thing a reporter might well write to help fill his quota of words for a local paper. But most important was the picture. Showing not just the late O'Malley and Carl Bowyer. Standing beside each other in work clothes, were a younger Mark Pool and an older man the caption identified as Father Richard Pike. They now had absolute proof the two men knew each other and had been on this site together on at least one occasion.

Goren took a copy and was slipping it back into its plastic sleeve when Eames returned in the SUV.

"How was the burger?" he asked when she came into the room.

"Couldn't bring myself to eat it thinking of you back here" she replied handing them each a paper sack.

Goren was not sure he totally believed her.

"Think this is yours" said Denver passing his bag across to Goren.

It was half an hour later when Eames suddenly looked up from the archive book she had taken charge of.

"Do you remember a kid called Jesus Castillo, Frank?"

"I remember both of them. Father and son" he shrugged "Oh I guess y'all found stuff on the famous miracle of Santa Lucia. Caused a regular fuss for a week or two"

Eames handed the album over to Goren who quickly scanned the half dozen items which had appeared in local papers, including _The Arizona Republic_ published in Phoenix. The basic story was that seven year old Jesus Castillo claimed to have been set upon by the devil himself one night and was only saved by the intervention of St Lucy who appeared, as was usual for such events, in the middle of a shining light.

"Of course what none of that probably tells y'all is that the Castillo kid had a raging fever with the measles" said Denver.

"But it happened here?" asked Goren.

"Yup. Manny the grandfather worked around ranches all over this area and beyond. Hauling an old trailer once his missus died. Came to the Mission for maybe six or seven years to help out Father Pike if he couldn't get work on one of the spreads. Paid him in kind for carpentry work"

Denver chuckled "Always knew when Manny was around. Used to get boozed up in Clemente or on local hooch. Hauled his truck from a ditch more than once when he crashed it drunk as a skunk"

"So his son was Jesus senior?" frowned Eames "The stories don't mention him"

"They wouldn't. The summer Manny brought the kid with him, Jesus was serving time for a car theft he committed up in Tucson. His wife...think she was his wife...left the kids and went off with some other guy...somehow Jesus Jnr ended up with his grandfather"

"Sounds like an ideal guardian" muttered Eames.

"I reported him to _DCS_ twice in that time. Apart from his drinking and leaving the kid alone, Manny was too free with his fists. Time they got around to doing anything he'd moved on who knows where and owing money"

Goren glanced at Eames "Any idea where he was the night of this miracle?"

"Getting laid at a whorehouse used to be on the old I10" growled Denver "Soon as he heard what Jesus was saying, Manny was onto the press looking to make a buck"

Goren turned back to the longest of the articles "Quotes Father Pike as saying that miracles do happen but he feels this was the fevered imagination of a sick child"

"Didn't stop a few sightseers and people hopeful of another miracle turning up out here" said the Sheriff.

"Frank?" said Goren slowly "Can we step outside a minute?"

"Sure"

Eames watched them go, having a pretty good idea what was going through Goren's mind. She set about making copies of the items.

_**To be continued...**_


	29. Chapter 29

"_**The Rib Eye", Nr Casa Grande, AZ**_

By the time they were finished at the Mission and heading north back to Phoenix, it made sense to eat dinner on the way and before it got too late.

"It's still very circumstantial Bobby unless you plan to get hold of a set of lunar tables?"

She might be teasing him but Eames knew there was a chance that he was right. After learning where the Castillo trailer always parked up, she too could accept the hypothesis that what Jesus saw from his bunk that fateful night was the statue of St Lucy above the lintel illuminated by moonlight.

What they both suspected was that _"the devil"_ had a very human form when he was left sick and alone in the trailer by his grandfather. When the only other person anywhere close by was Father Pike. Who was very swift to pour cold water on the idea of a _"miraculous vision"_ despite the donations that might have poured in as a result of an increased number of visitors.

"Our best hope is that Chater can find Jesus and he's willing to speak to us...Alex are you listening?"

"No. I'm watching our steaks heading this way"

_**The Garden Hotel, East Van Buren, Phoenix**_

When they went to collect their keys, the desk clerk handed Eames an envelope he said had been dropped off by a uniformed officer.

"Whatever else we might say Dave Chater is pulling out all the stops"

She handed Goren the note which confirmed Chater would have a CSU team at the Mission the next day and they had tracked down Jesus Castillo Jr. Helped by the fact he had followed the family tradition of not staying clear of law enforcement. Jesus was currently on probation, staying at some kind of group home for young offenders in Phoenix and working at a meat packing plant.

"How far is it to West Clarendon Avenue?" he enquired of the desk clerk who helpfully circled it on a free local map.

"Think we earned a beer before bedtime Bobby?"

"Yes Alex"

"On me then...on the condition you do not mention the case once"

"Deal"

They were on their second having talked wedding plans and she made him laugh about the fitting for her gown. He could remember Caro coming back equally exasperated with Jean-Paul and threatening to turn up in jeans and a sweatshirt.

"And you would not have cared less would you Bobby?"

"I would have been surprised and felt a little over dressed myself but no...no I wouldn't. So long as Caro..."

Eames did not press him to finish what he was going to say. For a man could struggle to control his negative emotions at times, he had always been very private about certain things. And had never needed to say what he felt about Caro. A blind man could see that.

"How is Elliot doing by the way? Forgot to ask with all that's been happening"

"He's due another x ray this week" replied Eames "If the bone is not healing they'll have to consider surgery...brace and screws job"

Goren pulled a face "Won't help his chances of returning very fast...if at all"

"I know" said Eames "Like you Stabler drives me nuts at times, but he's damn good at his job. You wouldn't consider..."

"As much as Elliot and I have...um...history...I think it's very...mean... of you to think about replacing him before you even know that will be necessary"

Eames shrugged "But if it was..."

"No. I never had any ambition to work SVU and certainly not with a Lieutenant who would be plotting to get rid of me before I even got my desk organised"

"That's a six month job on its own"

"Very funny Alex"

"What if chance came to stay at the Academy? Would you?"

Goren sipped his beer.

"I'm fairly sure the answer to that is no. Don't get me wrong...it's interesting and I'm enjoying it but...but it's not the same. Too long at the sharp end? Caro says investigation is my first, best destiny"

She smiled at the realisation he'd thought that through since the other day.

"Isn't that a quote from _Star Wars_?"

"That's what I said, but she insists its _Star Trek_ and even I know better than to argue" he glanced over at her "Sometimes. Want another?"

"Yes...no...I must call Jack before it gets too late at home"

_**Room 312, The Garden Hotel**_

Eames managed to catch McCoy before he turned in for the night and she had barely asked how his daughter and granddaughter were before she got an excited reply.

"_Guess what Al? Julie is pregnant. They are so thrilled and so am I. Baby is due 3__rd__ September. They say they don't mind but I think they are hoping for a boy this time..."_

As Jack went on Eames was hardly listening. Of course it explained why Julie had been so keen for them to visit this weekend, but that had never crossed her mind as the reason. Foolish of her in one way and also very mean to wish it was news of almost anything but that. It was the last thing she wanted or needed to hear right now.

Not when she had a growing suspicion she might be pregnant herself with a baby they had not planned. An accident, if she was right and they went through with it, which would make Jack a father for the fourth time about six weeks after he became a grandfather for the second. And there, in a nutshell, were almost all the reasons she was hoping she was wrong and putting off doing a test. That and her uncertainty about her own feelings on the matter.

"_Al? Al are you still there?"_

"Y..yes. Yes I am Jack. I'm really pleased for them"

"_You don't exactly sound it. Bad day for you?"_

"No...not really. Long one"

The rest of their conversation remained brief and on her part, stilted and awkward. And the more interested Jack tried to be and the more sympathetic he sounded, the worse she felt.

Relieved when the call ended, Eames lay on the bed a while turning her thinking into knots and starting to develop a headache. She felt totally wretched about the whole thing and angry with herself and Jack. That they had never really come to a conclusion about children before now. That had only really discussed it when he was diagnosed with cancer. Not the best time with that hanging over them. And they were so keen not to upset the other, she doubted either of them was totally honest about what they really thought.

Either that or neither of them actually knew what they thought and it was not something you could completely separate from the context of the person you were discussing it with. Three marriages, four kids including a surrogate for her sister, two ex wives, one dead husband, one _(soon to be two)_ grandchildren and the difference in their ages, made it far more complicated than it was for Bobby and Caro.

For a moment she was almost tempted to go next door and pour out her troubles to Goren. But three things stopped her. Firstly, Bobby might be asleep and secondly, they had never gone in for great confidences. By and large they dealt with their own private troubles, didn't pry or try to interfere and she was sure that had helped to make them a stronger team. Bobby would be acutely embarrassed by her snivelling her troubles and looking to him for advice.

And lastly, she had a fair idea what he'd say. Something along the lines it was all rather hypothetical and maybe she would be better to be sure she was pregnant first. Work out what _she_ wanted to do, whatever Jack said and before she told him.

She got up and went to the bathroom resolving to at least stop putting things off and do a damned test as soon as possible.

_**To be continued...**_

**AN: **_Goren's "history" with Elliot Stabler is explained in "A Wide Open Country"._


	30. Chapter 30

**Monday 22****nd**** February**

_**Sun Valley Meat Packers, W. Clarendon Boulevard, Phoenix**_

Goren and Eames waited at the end of the busy loading dock. Fresh beef carcasses were going in one entrance and boxes of trimmed and packaged meat coming out of the other and into a refrigerated truck. Both were doing their best to ignore the smell wafting out as they waited for Chater or the manager to re-emerge with Jesus Castillo.

"Enough to turn someone vegetarian" muttered Eames as a rack full of pig's heads was wheeled inside.

"Very intelligent the pig" said Goren "Smarter than a dog"

"If you say so"

Seeing Chater, they moved around the front of the truck to join him and a slim young man dumping bloody apron and gloves into a large bin.

"_Not on the loading bay!"_ yelled the manager as he departed.

Castillo closed the pack of smokes and gestured them all across the lot to an area it presumably was permitted.

Because he lit up, gave them a surly look and asked "So if I haven't done nothing what is it you want?"

Goren kept it very simple while Eames watched Castillo.

"Ain't nothing to tell" he said avoiding eye contact with her.

"Tell it anyway" said Chater.

The kid angled his body away from her and it was the second piece of body language she was looking for. You could never be sure with suspected victims of sexual assault. Whatever their age or sex, some were never happy speaking with a cop of the opposite gender whilst for others, it seemed to make it easier.

"I need to call in" she lied knowing Goren would pick up.

And whatever Chater's skills with such victims were or were not, Eames knew Goren would be fine. She had not been entirely joking last night when she suggested he switch to SVU.

Goren listened rather than spoke and once or twice a look was enough to stop Chater pressing for more details. That could come later in any formal statement.

"Did you ever tell anyone Jesus?"

"Told my grandfather the next day or maybe the day after...once I was over the fever...and I was having to say over and over the same bullshit to some reporters turned up" he drew hard on his cigarette.

"Beat the crap out of me for saying such wicked things about a priest...or because he was worried I'd blow the nice little earner he was onto"

"And it was just the one time?"

"Yeah. Looking back I'm sure Pike was worried I'd spill my guts about what he...what really happened. Funny thing though...the old man never left me alone at night after that. Until we moved on to the next place"

"I think he believed you after all" said Goren.

"Maybe. That it?"

"Not quite. Is your grandfather still around?"

"Hell no. Blew his liver out nearly five years ago"

"And you never told anyone else?"

"Only Jake Burns...he was a little older than me...used to hang out together"

"Still in touch with him, Jesus?" asked Chater.

"No but he'll be easy enough to find. His old man's spread is _Lonely Creek Ranch._ You know? Next to the Mission"

Goren and Chater glanced at each other. Anything Jake Burns had to say might be deemed _"hearsay"_ and inadmissible in court, but it was still worth following up.

_**Arizona Department of Public Safety, W Encanto Boulevard**_

There was only one thing you could really say about the headquarters of any police force. That one looked and felt like any other once you got into the heart of the building. At _AZ State_, Goren and Eames might as well have been at _1PP_ or in New Jersey or Connecticut.

They had spent over an hour briefing Captain Chater and a State Attorney on every detail of the case it had not been possible or necessary to share _"long distance"._ From the finding of the two bodies, through the _"mix up"_ with the packing crates and the discovery of the connection with the Mission.

As expected, the lawyer was wearing his sceptical hat throughout and making the point there was a difference between neat logic, likely co-incidence or evidence that would convince a jury. Eames suspected both she and Goren bit their tongues to stop themselves saying that had not seemed to matter to the earlier one. The case against Secombe in the matter of Andrew London had been even _"thinner"._

They both studiously ignored his asides about jurisdiction issues. It was not their problem and as they agreed later, it didn't seem as if he was bursting with enthusiasm to get the case back to Arizona. Needless to say, neither told him that the DA in New York he might have to go into battle against was Eames' fiancé.

"Even if the CSU team does find natron in that crypt Dave" he went on "It doesn't prove Pike took it there. It's been five years since he set foot in the place"

"Any chance you will eventually get Father Pool to turn Alex?" asked Chater

"I very much doubt it. Hard though it is to believe, Mark Pool has the reputation of being a very dedicated priest. And there will be a line of character witnesses to say so at his trial"

"And there's the loyalty he still feels to Pike" added Goren "His tutor, his mentor, substitute father figure..."

Dave Chater snorted "Suppose I go along with that theory...can't you play him on the crap father figure Pike turned out to be?"

"No" said Goren.

Eames watched him struggle for second and then continue.

"It doesn't work like that. My old man turned out to be a lousy father but only _I _have the right to say that. But if _you _were to start badmouthing my Dad, I'd find myself defending him. It's human nature"

Goren doodled and then turned to Eames "But it might work the other way round"

"You mean play on Father Pike's deficiencies...how he has let Mark Pool down?"

Goren nodded and then seemed to switch off from the discussion while he thought that through a little more.

"There's always the leverage of the assault on the Castillo kid" said the lawyer "Hope we can charge him with that and maybe the rest will come out?"

"Either way I won't be there this afternoon" said Dave grimly "Andy London is coming... home and...I should be there...see his parents"

Eames did not envy him that job at all.

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Don Cragen listened to what Finn Tutuola was telling him. That they had run out of leads on the Giambi case. Had traced every man she seemed to have been in contact with for the last couple of months and not just the ones who had "_James"_ or some version of it, as a name. Each one invited to give a DNA sample had been willing to do so, to the extent the lab could be backed up for weeks. And while some _"guilty"_ people did so, over confident they had left nothing behind, they both knew that was rare.

All of her phone records checked out which had led Finn to suspect if this guy existed they were communicating via a pre paid cell which had not turned up. The one _"unusual"_ charge on her credit card, to an expensive restaurant in New Jersey, had produced a photo fit for her companion from the waiter that would match thousands of men in the city.

When he saw it for himself, Cragen agreed. Going public with it would have half the force running round New York dealing with cranks, reports made out of spite and genuine cases of mistaken identity.

"At least the waiter proves the recent man in her life was not just something she made up" said Cragen.

Finn nodded "And fact she was with a guy in Jersey convinces me more and more he's a married man. We could find no evidence Lydia ever went there to shop or socialise any other time"

"You've covered a lot of ground here Finn and in a week. Which is why I'm reluctant to put it on the back burner"

"But?" said Finn mildly.

"Take a break from it and I need you and John to deal with what looks like a kidnap of an infant"

Tutuola reached around for his jacket over the back of his chair. You didn't become a cop if you couldn't handle bad news on a Monday or any other day of the week.

_**To be continued...**_


	31. Chapter 31

_**Diocese Of Phoenix, East Monroe Street**_

Just inside the gates of the compound, the drive split into two. The right fork was signed for _"The Residence"_ and _"Peter & Paul House"_ which housed all the administrative functions. Eames turned to the left ignoring the first branch which led to the _"John Paul Conference Centre"._

Their route took them past two residential blocks and parking lots and finally they drew up in a space outside _"Magdalene House"_ which was a mix of retirement and nursing home for the elderly and sick priests from within the Diocese.

A tall, spare man of about sixty greeted them in the lobby with the news he was Monsignor Johnson. Eames did not really understand terms like _"vicar general"_ but Goren had conveyed enough for her to grasp he was a second in command to the Bishop. You could not just turn up to a place like this, without a warrant, without firm jurisdiction and expect to be let in. And whatever it took Chater's boss to get them access, they did not get the impression there had been great resistance.

Johnson led them up two flights of wide stairs to the second floor and to a room at the end of the corridor. The sound of a TV game show could be heard from inside but it went silent at the knock.

"Come in, come in"

Eames had no real idea what to expect of Father Pike. The two pictures they had seen showed a man short compared to his younger companions and much younger when the first was taken. In the second, a large hat as protection from the sun had shadowed much of his face.

"Excuse me if I don't get up young lady" he said as they found themselves chairs.

Pike had obviously gained weight in his retirement and _"round"_ was the word Eames would have used to describe him. The smile seemed genuine and as they got themselves organised he chattered in the way of the elderly to be sure they were comfortable. And even said their visit was both intriguing and a little welcome in days that could sometimes seem a little long and dreary.

Like any polite host he asked about their journey and they allowed him to go off on a side bar about how long since he was last in New York and had _"Sam"_, as he referred to the Monsignor, ever seen St Patrick's or met the late O'Connor. But behind that gnome like mild eccentricity and charm, Eames could see the way his eyes darted between them.

Goren, as they hoped, was making him uncomfortable. By the way he just looked at him with that neutral expression and so far had uttered only three or four words. She was the one who had supplied the manners and smile in responding to his welcome.

"So then" he folded his hands over his rounded stomach "How can I hope to help two of New York's finest?"

"We made a very disturbing discovery in Brooklyn last week Father Pike. The bodies of two young boys"

It was not what she really wanted to say and he did not react at all.

"Oh dear me. Dreadful. I suppose they were...murdered?"

"I'm afraid so Father. And we are now certain both boys were from Arizona"

The old man blessed himself and sat for a moment with his eyes closed.

"That explains your visit then. I guessed it must be something serious to bring you all this way. _Other sins only speak, murder shouts out_"

"_Shrieks_" said Goren startling Pike and Eames too if she was honest.

"Excuse me Detective?"

"The correct quote is _other sins only speak, murder shrieks out_"

"Yes perhaps you are right. Memory not so good at my age. But nice to meet someone else who knows _Macbeth_"

Then Eames went through a very condensed version of how they were sure the bodies had been in the possession of Father Mark Pool. And it was about him they needed to ask some questions.

"Mark Pool?" he frowned "Not sure I remember him"

"You taught him Old Testament at seminary?" Eames encouraged a man she knew was playing for time

"You were his confessor for all that time. He was very friendly with Thomas O'Malley and Carl Bowyer"

"So many of Irish descent went through that place...now Bowyer I do remember...he was unusual because he was a convert. Family were Baptists or something like that"

"Does this help?" Goren handed over the picture from an old year book Miller had found and faxed through.

"Oh yes. Mark. Rather an intense young man as I recall"

"Was he still as intense when he was helping you rebuild the mission? As recently as six years ago"

Goren deliberately handed the article first to Johnson. It made the old man wonder just what it was they might have since he could not see it and was further confirmation that Pike was being purposely evasive.

Once he got the picture he did a fair job of making out it all came back to him now.

"Yes they did help out that year. Installing all the pews was quite a job I can tell you"

"I expect it was Father" said Eames "So was it just the one time Father Pool visited you at the Mission?"

He was too clever to be caught out that way.

"No. He came three or four times maybe? A working vacation we called it"

"And you kept in touch with each other?"

"Yes. Wrote letters...that sort of thing. Mark sometimes needed...guidance...support if you like. Felt his duty lay with the...the less well off...felt one or two of his parishes did not really need what he could offer. So long as there was someone in a collar giving his best performance at the front of the church and they were seen to be there...the faithful were happy"

He was at least confirming what they knew of Mark Pool.

"In Mark's case he often felt he was not so much being sent by God as pushed by his mother. Rich and ambitious for him so he felt conflicted"

"Something is puzzling me" frowned Goren "You have not asked the names of the boys we found?"

"Why would I?" Pike snapped.

"Simple curiosity" shrugged Goren.

"We told you the two dead boys came from Arizona, we're asking you about a man who visited you here...I would have thought human nature...or maybe not"

Pike composed himself and turned to Eames "Shall we continue my dear?"

She was sure she would get up and scream the next time he patronised her with that or _"young lady_". But she resisted through almost another half hour like that. Her focussing most of the time on the character of Mark Pool, any opportunity he might have had to commit horrible crimes while he was in Arizona and with Goren supplying the uncomfortable questions. Like suddenly asking him what he knew about natron. Followed by surprise it was so little when he lived for almost fifteen years right in the middle of a major deposit of the substance. And on one occasion had damaged his car in the middle of _"The Flats"._ A few days after one of the boys vanished.

Each time Pike talked around the subject, giving himself thinking time. Anticipating what the next question might be and often, as a result talking himself into contradiction or revelation of more detail. Pike was _"saved"_ if that was the word by the arrival of a domestic with a tray of the regular afternoon tea. He insisted on serving and Johnson took the chance to motion Goren who was the nearest, outside the door.

"Are you building up to accusing Richard of this crime Detective?" he hissed "Because from where I'm sitting it looks that way"

"We believe Monsignor he knows a lot more about what happened than he is saying. From where you are sitting I think you believe that too"

"What I believe is irrelevant. And at some point I shall advise him to say nothing more until we have a legal representative present"

"Don't worry. I'll let you know when we reach that point"

Johnson glared and made off quickly down the hall. To make what Goren suspected would be an urgent call across to the residence or administration building.

Back inside, he had no intention of drinking the tea he was handed. What little he did consume was always without milk and the contents of the cup were almost as white as the china itself. Goren set it to one side with a grimace at Eames.

They made polite conversation, or rather Eames did, until Johnson returned, mistaking Goren's cup and quickly drinking back the foul concoction himself.

Later, it seemed like much later and at the point where Pike said _"I'm not sure there is much more I can tell you" _Eames had enough. Just a look from her was enough to let Goren loose.

"I think there is. And I think you will. In time. About what happened in all those parishes in Ohio and Pennsylvania you stayed at such a short time. About why the bishop here chose to bury you out at that Mission for all those years"

In his peripheral vision Goren saw Johnson's discomfort and was sure at that moment he knew the real reason too.

"You see we know you lied about never having been to Coyote" he held up a plastic folder "This is the speeding ticket you got the day before the London boy vanished. Five miles from the self same spot. And we know the mason who carved the replacement statue of Our Lady lived not far from where Juan Mendoza was last seen. You really did keep impeccable records of where you bought or acquired everything that's now at the Mission"

"We've seen the crypt out there. As we speak there is a forensic team crawling over every square inch of that place. What modern science can do is...dare I say it...miraculous. To say nothing of the time the _State Police_ will put into tracking down every lead, any clue and even any faint hope"

Even Eames was finding those calm and measured tones almost hypnotic.

"Is that all you have to say?" asked Pike querulously.

"Almost. I have a son. A son who depends on me, who needs to trust me, expects me to guide him, to teach him and I hope...that I'm up to that task. That I earn and truly deserve his love and loyalty, rather than just expecting that from him. That I never let him down the way you let Father Pool down. Played on his affection, his faith in you as well as the faith he practices. Dragged him into this...this atrocity. Into covering up for you and using a sacrament to guarantee his silence"

"I want you to leave...Sam...tell them to go"

Whether the clutching at his heart was genuine they had no idea, but a white faced Johnson stood up and waved them to the door.

"And by the way" Goren halted halfway through "That quote? It's from _The Duchess of Malfi _not _Macbeth_"

_**To be continued...**_

**AN : **"Other sins only speak, murder shrieks out" _The Duchess of Malfi by John Webster (c1580 – c1634)_


	32. Chapter 32

_**Diocese Of Phoenix, East Monroe Street**_

As Johnson had shown them right to the front door, between summoning someone to see to Father Pike, Eames drove out of the parking lot immediately. The muttering of the attendant made her suspect that he'd pulled stunts like that before. When things were not going his way.

She turned the SUV into the deserted parking area of the conference centre and they both bailed out. Needing to stretch their legs, get some air and mentally _"chill out"_ after a session which had needed such intense concentration. It was a warm afternoon and Goren slid out of the jacket he would probably have worn for the dinner in LA that he missed.

He stretched and turning to Eames said "You know its times like this I miss smoking"

"And I bet I can guess one of the others" she grinned.

Goren shrugged an awkward admission.

"Guess we can't win them all"

"Don't be such a pessimist Eames. We both knew it was highly unlikely he'd give it up. Our job was to soften him up and hope the State can make the touchdown"

That was the strategy they agreed before they left HQ. And one reason the name of Jesus Castillo was not mentioned.

"Could be right. I'm sure a lot of that hit home with the Monsignor and he knows something about Pike's distant past"

"I'm banking on that Eames. And he will make sure no other priest falls into the trap of hearing it during an act of confession. Given his age and all the rest it's in the Church's interest to get this dealt with as discretely as possible"

"Rely on them to apply the moral thumbscrews?"

"Something like that"

"Come on Bobby. I'll treat you to dinner tonight"

He opened the door on the passenger side "You personally? Not the city of New York?"

"Get in and be quiet. Or you'll be walking back to the hotel"

_**Room 312, The Garden Hotel, E. Van Buren**_

A long soak in the bath always worked wonders for her physically and mentally. And between dressing, Eames flicked through the guest information folder included advertisements for various restaurants. Of course they all claimed to serve excellent food but then they would hardly say otherwise. And with an overpriced _"fine dining"_ facility in the hotel, the staff were not going to recommend elsewhere with any great enthusiasm.

Eames studied the leaflet for a Chinese. That might be quite nice, Goren would be happy with that and someone called _"Lenny"_ who claimed to be from Queens had scribbled a note to the effect it was good. She felt she could trust a fellow New Yorker.

When her phone rang it was Dave Chater. He had two pieces of good news she decided to share with Goren and agree when they would leave for dinner.

_**Room 310, The Garden Hotel**_

"_Aaa!"_ they both yelped in unison as Goren opened his door wearing only a towel.

"I...um...thought you were the girl from housekeeping" he blushed.

"Really?" Eames felt her eyebrows almost reach her scalp.

"With the extra pillow I asked for" Goren muttered "Are you coming in?"

"No thank you. Half an hour? Dinner? Chinese?"

"Yes. Fine"

"And?" she asked when he hesitated.

"And could you step back so I don't shut this door in your face?"

_**The Peony Tree, E. 34**__**th**__** Street**_

"_Lenny"_ from Queens was right. The food was good as was the fact Goren was not too fussy and happy to go along with the dishes she chose. Nor did he question the fact she asked for water rather than wine. That was a sudden realisation and a momentary guilt trip.

If she was pregnant and she really should do something about finding out, and if they had the baby, Eames didn't suppose two small beers last night would have done any harm. She'd only been able to put up with her sister's fascism about every last little thing she should or should not do for about a month. In the end had to tell her very firmly to butt out.

"Alex?"

"Oh sorry...miles away...no you have the last of the mushrooms if you want"

"Thanks" he reached for the dish "But that's not what I asked. What did Dave have to say?"

"That the lab has confirmed almost pure natron all over that crypt"

"No blood or other traces?"

She smiled as Goren carefully scooped half the remaining mushrooms onto her plate.

"No but I got the impression he might have it taken apart stone by stone. Jesus turned up to make a very clear statement and the other kid..."

"Jake Burns"

"Turned out he was ten when Pike abused Jesus. Has a clear memory of what he was told. Right down to a very distinctive detail Dave didn't specify"

Goren said nothing but knew exactly what both young men must have said.

"When are they going to arrest him on that?"

Eames swallowed "In the morning. Seems the Diocese was even happy for there to be a discrete police presence in the compound overnight"

"Told you they would co-operate"

They ended the meal with a Chinese tea Goren assured her would taste better than it smelled. Another occasion he was proved right and it came with the obligatory fortune cookies.

"If you tell me again these are an American invention I'll kick you so hard you won't walk for a week" she threatened cracking hers open.

Eames read it silently "What does yours say?"

"_Something small will make you very hippy_...I thinks that's a typo and should read _happy_"

"I bet they give that one to all men on purpose"

"_Gnhfnn" _Goren mumbled through a mouthful of cookie

Eames took that to mean it was her turn.

"_Great changes ahead_" she said "All spelled correctly"

"Good news all round then"

"Oh come on Bobby. They are hardly likely to say _make an appointment with your doctor soon_ or _be wary of your wife and best friend_, are they?"

Fifteen minutes later they left and passing a late night pharmacy, Eames hesitated.

"You go on. I'll catch you up"

"I'll wait here" he shrugged.

She went inside knowing exactly why he was waiting. She might be a cop but it was night, she was a woman and she was in a strange town. No way would Goren leave her to walk back along a deserted street on her own. On duty it was another story. He expected her to carry her end of the log and never once patronised her or said anything vaguely sexist.

Eames grabbed the first pregnancy test she saw and made sure it was jammed into the bottom of her purse before she left the store. A decision she was later to regret.

_**Room 310/212 Berry Drive, Palos Verdes, LA.**_

Goren was content with his extra pillow to lay and listen to Caro. Glad she had found the conference session that afternoon interesting and when she told him some of the detail, a little disappointed. The seminar was one she had managed to fix for him to attend.

"How did Joel enjoy the crèche?"

"_Seemed to like it...but a couple of the parents Rob? I swear some of these shrinks and head doctors have kids as an experiment in practical child psychology"_

"Met a couple like that once. Their daughter ended up killing someone"

_She laughed that soft laugh "Says a lot for the people you meet but it got me wondering what I might be doing to our son"_

"Nothing like those two" he snorted.

"_I rarely seem to know what day of the week it is, never mind find the time to devise some kind of programme for Joel"_

"It's Monday, Tuesday tomorrow and by this time we'll all be together again"

"_I know"_

"Can you...will you come to the airport Caro?"

"_Doubt I'll be able to get across town in time...there's an option about... but don't get a cab. We'll fix for someone to meet you"_

"Okay. See you tomorrow. And give Joel a big kiss from Daddy"

"_I will. Night Rob"_

He put down the phone and snuggled down in the warmth and darkness. There were only two people who were his priority from now on.

_**To be continued...**_


	33. Chapter 33

**Tuesday 22****nd**** February**

_**The Garden Hotel, Phoenix**_

The telephone jerked Eames into sudden and unpleasant consciousness.

"Yeah...okay"

While the desk was transferring the call from Captain Chater, she leaned over to peer at the clock/radio whose alarm she must have forgotten to set or slept through when she saw how late it was.

"Hello Captain...what?"

She sat up so fast she got a head rush and felt momentarily dizzy.

"Oh...I see...uhuh...really...no just go ahead and do it. I'll sign anything when I see you...where's that...no better we come to HQ...not sure...don't know where Goren is right now...yes...see you later"

Eames doubted at this time Goren would still be in bed. But remembering that business with the towel last night and considering her own state of dress, or lack of it, she used the phone. Was not entirely surprised she got no reply and then got out of bed.

Fifteen minutes later and feeling almost human, she located him in the hotel's informal dining area. Working his way through a plate of toast.

"Morning Eames"

He pushed it over along with the butter and a dish of jelly portions.

"Morning. Isn't there any peanut butter...oh I forgot...you don't like it on toast"

Goren signalled for the waiter, asked for peanut butter and some fresh coffee for himself and the lady. You did not need to be a detective to realise Eames had risen late, just be able to tell time. Nor did you need to be one to realise she had rather rushed around since she woke. She'd arrived slightly pink and breathless and as she leaned over the table, he could smell toothpaste on her breath.

"Chater just called me. Pike is in hospital. Tried to kill himself last night...I thought suicide was a mortal sin for Catholics?" she frowned "And what is a mortal sin anyway?"

"One you have not been absolved of when you die. Which sends you to eternal damnation" said Goren casually spreading butter.

"But it has to be a serious one, you have to know it's a sin when you commit it and do it consciously, though..."

"Enough" muttered Eames.

"Is he going to live?"

"They think so. Took a bunch of pills and perhaps when that didn't work as quickly as he expected, he cut his wrists"

"Amateur night all round then" Goren halted the toast on its way to his mouth "Pills probably slowed his circulation too"

Eames did not reply to that. It was more or less what Chater had relayed of the medical opinion.

"Seems they do a night time check on all the residents. When they found his door locked and got no response, they called it in and of course there were a couple of cops in the compound last night. They broke the door down and the RN on duty handled it until the paramedics got there"

She thanked the waiter for the coffee and waited until Goren had moved his cup automatically to the left side of his plate.

"I said we would meet Chater at HQ, no point in going to the hospital unless you think..."

"You can Eames. I'm not going"

"Why not?" she puzzled.

"Because I'm packing my bag, taking a walk along the street to a toy store I saw last night, wasting money on my son and then getting a cab to the airport in _very_ good time for my flight" he replied mildly.

"But there's plenty of time" she protested.

"I don't care Eames" Goren shrugged "I'm not going with you and furthermore you can't order me to"

"I know that Detective!" Eames snapped before moderating her tone.

"I'm sorry Bobby. And I wouldn't...I just thought your famous curiosity..."

He laughed softly "That got switched off at midnight...and don't look at me like I just grew two heads"

"I just realised something Bobby" she quietly "How much you...you've changed...or maybe...this is embarrassing...that I never noticed"

"While since we worked together Alex" he said kindly "And yes...I can walk away in a way I never could...switch off from all the...the stuff we have to deal with...took me a while to learn how and I was lucky. Caro was very patient with me"

She hid her surprise that Bobby would ever be as open as to say those things. _Perhaps that was different too?_

"And now you've got Joel too"

"Uhuh. And I won't apologise for saying my mind is now on taking my son to play on the sand, not some old priest who tried to off himself"

"You always said you hated beaches"

"Only when they are crime scenes"

_**The Lobby, The Garden Hotel**_

Eames waited car keys in hand while Goren checked his bag into the luggage room. She had not really expected him to change his mind. Not even when she threw in the fact Pike had left an envelope addressed to her. She was halfway through the second plate of toast by then.

"Cab booked?" she asked as he joined her.

"Uhuh"

"Can I ask you something?"

"I'll regret this but...yes"

"If you _can_ walk away...how come you are here now?"

"Old habits are hard to break Eames"

He leaned over to give her a hug and it was to his shoulder she spoke next.

"You were supposed to say because you miss working with me Bobby"

"That too Alex" said the voice in her ear before he kissed her cheek and let her go.

"See you back in New York, Detective"

Goren paused as the hotel doors slid open "But only for dinner Lieutenant Eames"

She watched him stroll away in the sunlight, before heading to the basement parking garage.

_**North Avenue Parking Lot, Kean University, New Jersey**_

While his buddy called in the plate number, the younger of the Campus Police officers checked around the vehicle which displayed no permit. He also looked inside and saw nothing out of place except for the fact someone had popped the ignition and hotwired it. A _Lincoln Town Car_ was not exactly the type of model students or faculty drove very often. His money would on one of little bastards stealing it to get a ride back to the dorm.

He went back to the driver's side "Think I should check the trunk?"

"Nah don't bother" said the older man thinking how soon their shift would be over.

"It's a reported stolen from a service over in Manhattan. Let them deal with it. Just stick a notice on it"

He did as he was told and as they drove off they were taking bets on how long it would be before the jurisdictional issues got sorted and the car got towed away.

_**The Toy Box, E. Van Buren St, Phoenix**_

As usual in these places, Goren found himself drawn to the toys he'd had as a kid or wished he'd had. And which were all still _"too old"_ for Joel. But a fort was definitely on his mental list for the future and he just hoped he would not be playing with it on his own. While his son was fixated on some flashing, mind numbing electronic thing. Down to him and Caro to be sure that did not happen he guessed.

He made his way to the section marked for infants and was drawn to the shelf containing soft _"Western"_ figures. The cactus was kind of dull and Joel had various animals already, so that put the rather fierce looking bull out of the running. The Native American was far too stereotypical for his taste but he rather liked the cowboy.

He picked it up and gave it a squeeze, laughed aloud and then glanced around feeling an idiot. But with no-one about he tried again. It made a kind of squawking _"yeehar"_ noise.

Goren headed for the counter, reaching for his wallet and wondering if they did gift wrapping.

_**To be continued...**_


	34. Chapter 34

_**Sky Harbor Airport, Phoenix**_

With time before her flight Eames sat in a quiet corner of the coffee shop re-reading the copy of the letter she had first seen at State Police HQ. Before his unsuccessful suicide attempt Richard Pike had written out a full confession and addressed it to her. It was short and chilling in its simplicity.

A bald admission that he had killed the two boys he only ever knew as Juan and Andrew, kept their bodies in the crypt and then persuaded Father Mark Pool to take them away some years later. When the new Bishop announced his decision to retire him and hand over responsibility for the Mission to the local historical association. The _"so called experts"_ who had started to complain about and criticise his work.

Eames took a sip of coffee feeling sick and disgusted. The only _"emotion"_ that came through the whole letter was his pompous resentment of people who dared to question his judgement on matters of preservation. Not a hint of regret at the deaths of two boys he either killed in the act of abusing them or dispatched to prevent them talking. Not even a sentence to make clear what Mark Pool did or did not know before he was summoned from El Paso by his old mentor.

It left many questions unanswered, but at least there would be chance to ask them of him when he recovered. And it released Pool from his obligation to stay silent.

Eames slid the folder into the pocket of her carry on thinking perhaps they did get through to the old swine after all and remembering something Goren said days ago. How that bizarre altar at _Sacred Heart_ and the strange decision to keep the bodies with him, was Pool's self imposed penance. A daily reminder of his own grave errors of judgement and sins.

She checked the time and then reached into her purse for the pregnancy test. That was when she read the leaflet inside for the first time. And realised it had a long and complex set of instructions of how soon and when it should be used. A list of _do's_ and _don'ts _and criteria and conditions she could not fulfil right now.

Eames dropped it into a trash can on her way across the concourse to the pharmacy. There she spent a rather more time making a selection and came out with a pink and blue box just as the first call for her flight came over the loudspeaker.

_**Los Angeles International Airport**_

When neither Caro nor anyone else he recognised was in the arrivals lounge, Goren was a little confused. Until he saw a bored looking guy in a valet service vest. Holding a card which said _"Goran"._

He'd gotten used to that misspelling down the years, approached the man and then followed him to the kerb while he talked into a radio full of static.

"This is yours" muttered the yellow vest and gestured to take his bag.

Goren got into the back of the _Lexus _which drew up, the trunk slammed shut and they were soon edging into traffic.

As they left the airport confines Goren frowned. He was no great expert on the roads in LA but he was sure right at the lights, not left, was the correct direction for _Palos Verdes._ He said nothing. Drivers all had their preferred routes and he was probably aware of some construction works or other traffic problems that day.

So he was more puzzled when they headed just a couple of blocks north and then turned west. And almost immediately right into the parking lot of a motel_._

_**Inglewood Motel, W. Century Boulevard, LA**_

It was an establishment of rather dubious appearance and Goren wondered if he was about to find himself sharing with a hooker the guy was driving around off the books.

But when the car halted, he saw his wife sitting on a seat under a porch which ran the length of the building. As Caro stood up, he got out. And still in a daze handed the driver a couple of bucks, took hold of his bag and stood like a prize idiot.

For a long moment just looking at her.

"Er...your hair looks great Caro"

He wasn't just saying that, it did, even though he usually liked it a little longer.

"Thanks. Neighbour of Amy's is a hairdresser. Did it for me Sunday morning"

"Long way to come next time though"

"Are you going to stand there in the sun all afternoon Rob?"

He joined her on the porch and set down his bag.

"Um...would I...can I ask what we are doing here Caro?"

She shrugged "Thought it might be more polite than at the house. Middle of the afternoon and all"

"To fight you mean?"

Caro gave him that look did more for him than any _"Playboy" _centrefold ever had.

"Not what I had in mind...but if you want to..."

"No" he said firmly "No I don't"

She reached for his hand "Rob? Did we ever have make up sex before?"

He eased his fingers slowly between hers.

"I don't think so. Not sure I even know what...how it's...do you?"

"No. Think we can figure it out?"

"We can only try our best Caro"

_**United 1103 Phoenix/New York**_

Eames returned to her seat. An airplane bathroom was not exactly an ideal or charming place to confirm your suspicions about being pregnant. It would always be memorable of course. And she hoped Jack, who was going to meet her at La Guardia, would understand why she did it this way.

Why, with everything else that had happened in the last week she had rather _"put it off"_ and needed the _"bubble"_ that the flight afforded her to think through what she wanted to do on her own. Not have to deal with her decision alongside mutual shock, Jack's almost inevitable uncertainties and maybe threats to sue the manufacturers of an IUD had clearly not done its job on one occasion.

She tried to order her thoughts and reactions calmly. List the pros and cons of the options for her, for Jack and for them. Except it was not something anyone could be totally rational about.

It was when she found herself checking her diary to establish the baby's due date, that Eames realised her decision was already made.

_**Inglewood Motel, W. Century Boulevard, LA**_

They moved with simultaneous and practiced ease to a position kept them locked together, but able to breathe more easily. The only sound that of their ragged breath and then the roar of a jet from nearby LAX.

"Huh?" mumbled Rob as her clammy arm almost fell off his clammy body.

Something, and Caro had a suspicion it might be his belt, was digging into her back. Somehow she managed to slide it out and it fell on the floor. It would not be alone. They hadn't exactly waited to fold neatly or hang their clothes in those moments of needy and impatient urgency, interspersed with gentle and loving tenderness.

Everything it ever could be had seemed to roll into one occasion. Slow, soft seduction and runaway, raw raunchiness. Would have been more of that but the table turned out not to be as sturdy as it looked.

There was, as Rob shifted one thigh and wriggled, only one problem she suddenly remembered. Somewhere in the room and between them, they had two kinds of birth control. And the problem, if there was one, was that they had used neither.

"Caro" he murmured into her hair "I just realised something"

"What's that?" she asked suspecting reality might have dawned on him too.

"I've still got my socks on"

_**To be continued...**_


	35. Chapter 35

**Wednesday 24****th**** February**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Jack suddenly realised his mouth felt very dry. Probably because of how long it had been open. Waiting for words or phrases like_ "How?" "Are you sure?"_ and _"When?"_ to come out of it. They never did.

"W...what do you want to...how do you feel about this Al?" his voice was tentative and unsure.

"I need to know exactly what you think Jack" she replied softly.

"I...I think...I know it terrifies me...I was not a good father to my other kids Al...youth, the job, ambition...whatever it was got in the way, even after I promised myself it would not happen again"

He paused twisting his fingers together.

"And I can't promise now...you realise I will be on a _Zimmer_ frame by the time any kid graduates High School...and that's if I'm lucky...and with the cancer thing...who knows...you could be left...you did think about all of this?"

"I did"

"How far along...when?"

"Does it matter?" Alex asked quietly "Would that affect how you feel or what you think we should do?"

"No but it's a normal thing to ask. Isn't it?"

"I suppose so. Around twentieth of October. And you still didn't say"

"You're making this very hard Al...you had time to think this all through and I can't stop myself thinking there is a wrong answer to this question" McCoy sighed.

"The one that means we won't stay together"

_**212 Berry Drive, Palos Verdes, LA**_

It had taken them a while; a quiet play and then a cuddle with Daddy to get Joel back off to sleep. Caro settled him carefully in the crib Amy and John retrieved from their attic and slid back into bed in the hope of a couple more hours sleep. She snuggled her back against Rob to warm up, wriggled and then startled.

"Are you...is that your?"

"You must be joking Caro" he muttered fumbling near her behind.

"Oh I see"

She took the squeaky cowboy he handed her and dropped him onto the floor.

"Rob?"

"Yes?" he said slowly and carefully.

Caro had a sneaky tendency to catch him unawares at times. Put one over on him because he was watching a game when he'd allegedly agreed to something or other. Convince him of some notion when they were in bed and his mind elsewhere or he was semi-conscious. And he was not joking a moment ago, so she really could forget any scheme of an amorous nature too.

"I was thinking..."

It always started like that.

"About what we agreed earlier?"

As she turned over in the bed, his mind set immediately changed. This was not some silly bicker about drapes, where to take Joel at the weekend or whose turn it was to do the ironing.

"How certain are you we decided the right thing?"

Goren sighed and put his arms round her "I know you think I ducked it Caro, put it all back on you but I meant what I said"

"I know you did. But we were both feeling kind of foolish, panicking a little and it's not like we've had much time or space to think it through. It seemed the only decision to make a few hours ago"

"And now _you _have thought it through and changed _our _minds?"

"Uhuh. Would it be so bad if it turned out there was another baby on the way?"

"No" he softly "It wouldn't. I thought that too. So we'll wait and see what happens?"

"We could Rob or...we could try to make it happen anyway"

As her mouth brushed his in the darkness Goren knew what his response to that would be. Though any practical steps in that direction would still have to wait a while longer.

_Or maybe not?_

_**Office Of The District Attorney, 1 Hogan Place**_

"Morning Maggie" said Ron Carver.

"Morning Ron" said McCoy's secretary "Could you sign off on this appeal please? Himself has initialled for the top copies to be made"

"Sure" he took the three cover sheets and began to sign and hand them back to her.

"Did something come up?"

"His dinner?" she suggested "Called in to say he'd be in late. Sounded a little rough"

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Eames was enjoying the fact Jack had _"cut class"_ that morning. Very much. And she knew why he was being so gentle and considerate. But she wasn't a porcelain doll; she was flesh and blood and with a need was never going to be met like this.

He soon picked up on the physical hints she gave him and ran with them.

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

Cragen had not expected Alex to come in at all today and for someone who had worked through so many days and flown across the country and back, she looked great. At rested and relaxed as someone who had been at a health spa for a week, not a cop who had worked a nasty case, in difficult circumstances and might never get all the answers she wanted.

Even had a bit of a glow from the sun in AZ which had been notably absent for the last few days in New York. She lifted the sheaf of papers in her hand referred to as _"SITREP"_. The weekly list of ongoing cases roughly in priority order and containing basic information.

"I see you moved the Giambi thing down the list boss"

"Had to Alex. The baby snatching was priority for Munch and Tutuola"

"Did a good job on that"

"They did. What do you think of Finn?"

Eames frowned "Off the record?"

Cragen nodded.

"He's good, very good and maybe has not had the recognition he should...I'm not saying from you Captain...but he works hard, is smart and adapts to the people he's working with...all that time undercover with _Narco_ I expect...and he doesn't make waves other people are left in the wake of"

"Unlike some we could name" smiled Cragen.

"Speaking of which, any news on Elliot?"

"Good. Kind of. Be in a cast for another month but it could be two more after that before he's likely to be duty fit. Which does not help us or his wife"

Eames was not about to repeat the gossip she heard that for some time before his accident Stabler had resumed his _"on/off"_ affair with Liv Benson. If ever two people should have stayed away from each other it was those two.

"Any chance of help on that score?"

"Not much"

She also knew it would not be too long before she would in here adding to the problems and bringing the Captain her maternity leave documents. Jack had surprised her a little in the end. By how positive he had been about the prospect of a baby, especially so once she convinced him she felt the same. And the breakfast in bed he brought her after they made love this morning was really sweet of him.

"Anyway I must head to my desk and at least try to tie up some loose ends on this Pike/Pool business..." she laughed "No pun intended..._Pike Pool_ boss?"

She was out the door by the time Cragen _"got it"._ He was just glad she was over whatever seemed to be bothering her last week.

_**To be continued...**_


	36. Chapter 36

**Friday 26****th**** February**

_**Hester Street, Chinatown, Manhattan**_

Eames could barely wait to get out of the wretched basement was more like a dungeon. The five Oriental girls kept down there were all wearing leg shackles, Finn and an officer from _Organised Crime_ were cutting the chains and the stench from a john in the corner was overwhelming.

"Don't make them walk to the bus with those on" she instructed the paramedics as they entered the door now off its hinges.

A uniformed officer who accompanied them as an interpreter came over.

"Those three are Thai" he told her "Two fifteen year olds and the other is only fourteen. The other girls are Cambodian. I have a little Kmer and them some English. They are both seventeen"

"But they all look younger" muttered Eames.

One reason they were so attractive to the kind of men who got them into the country and traded them like cattle. Another was that they would almost certainly turn out to be girls from desperate families in the countryside, who had not heard the warnings about the reality of the _"jobs in America"_ being offered to their daughters.

"We'll need interpreters then"

"Not for the kind of sexual acts they've been performing" he muttered before going to help with a girl who was getting distressed.

In the two cleaner and brighter rooms across the hall, the three men found on the premises were cuffed and waiting for a bus to collect them. Various weapons like brass knuckles and a couple of knives had been set to one side and an epithet from inside caused her to look.

An _OC_ detective was removing items from a dresser and putting them on top. Various sex toys of the kind might be fun in a loving and trusting relationship, but not when your body was paid for by a man with tendencies towards sexual sadism. And one or two items whose only purpose was to hurt.

Seeing the bruises and at least one cigarette burn on the two older girls suggested that was their role now. Because they were getting past their appeal to men who liked them young and fresh. The result of natural ageing and the use they had been put to for who knew how long. Out on the street, Eames breathed in the fresh air and saw John Munch push through the small crowd being held back.

"How many at your location?" she asked him.

"Four and one arrested. Faith is still over there" Munch took a deep breath "One of the girls is not good... amateur abortion"

_**Manhattan CSU Vehicle Compound**_

"Hey buddy!" yelled the guard on the entrance to the driver of the tow truck.

"This is a _New Jersey_ order. I can't sign it"

"Read what it says underneath dumbass" he shouted above the sound of the engine.

"It's registered here, got stole from here and now you got it back"

The guard muttered and allocated him a bay to leave the _Lincoln_. Someone might get round to processing it come fall.

_**Bridal Dreams, 75 West 29**__**th**__** Street, Manhattan**_

"Won't be long Finn" said Eames as she shut the car door.

As she walked in Jean-Paul gave a little scream and for a moment she thought he might faint. He quickly signalled someone to take her to "_The Rose Room"._ In other words get her away as quickly as possible from his other, also rather startled, customers.

She supposed combat pants, her hair tied up very roughly, cuffs and a large gun were not the usual attire for a bride-to-be who dropped by for a quick fitting discussion. Looking at herself in the full length mirror, Eames concluded he should be glad the vests were so uncomfortable sitting down or she might have come in wearing that too.

When he entered with the latest version of her gown, he sniffed hard a couple of times.

"Parfum du basement whorehouse" she told him.

"Very reatthuring" he said before adding "I juth wanted you to thee thith trim I found at a little place I thumtimeth uth"

"Little place, big price I expect" Eames muttered in spite of the fact she thought it was perfect.

"Oh don't worry Mith Eamth. What do you think?"

"Actually Jean Paul" she smiled "I think it's lovely. Perfect in fact"

"Bon!" he clapped his hand with glee.

"Beth not to try thith on now I think. I'll tack it on and then we can adjuth at the final fitting"

"Great. Thanks Jean-Paul"

She left him hurrying to find a can of aerosol freshener before his next clients came in.

_**Mission Canyon Road, Santa Barbara, CA**_

They had rented a cottage for the rest of their stay rather than risk the disruption to Joel of too many different beds and places to sleep. In the peace of the country, but not too far from the sea and places like the _Botanic Gardens._ After the trip up in the car they had borrowed from Amy, a good crawl around to explore and his lunch, he had gone out like a light.

During the drive Caro had told Goren of an idea that had been put to her before she left New York. One, with his preoccupations at the time and the strained atmosphere between them, she had waited for them to be really on their own to discuss. She had been given the chance to return to _Columbia_ to undertake research and some teaching. It was what she had been doing on a sabbatical year from her job at _Boston General_ when they first met.

Hour for hour it did not pay as well as the clinical sessions she was doing now, but the almost free crèche for Joel would make up for that. And, because it was a _"day job"_ she could work more hours. It was a better option when he returned to _Major Case_ and his hours got more erratic and when the next baby arrived.

Most important for him was that _Columbia _was what she wanted to do and what would make her happy.

"Want me to light the fire Caro?" he asked having emptied the grocery shopping in the kitchen.

"Not worth it Rob. Not if we go out when Joel wakes up to stretch our legs and explore a little"

"Guess not" he squatted down in front of the hearth.

"I was right you know...this is a real bearskin rug"

"Poor bear and I think I just worked out why you want to light that fire?"

"Excuse me...oh I see...no it isn't..." he thought a moment "Now you mention it. Maybe later?"

Caro laughed "Only on one condition. That you take that elk head off the wall. Can't stand the thought of suddenly seeing that glassy eyed stare"

"But they are glass eyes"

"I know that! Sheesh you can be such a pedant. Now where are you going?"

"To find some ladders" Goren called back over his shoulder.

_**To be continued...**_


	37. Chapter 37

**Tuesday 2****nd**** March**

_**Conference Room, 1 Hogan Place**_

"Morning Ron"

McCoy breezed into the room and set down a small bundle of papers.

"Jack" he nodded and hesitated a second.

"Everything...you know...okay at your check up?"

Jack got his head into gear and said quickly "Oh yes fine...just had to switch it because of a diary thing"

It was possibly a little wicked to tell a lie and make out the appointment was for him, but it was far too early to be telling anyone Al was pregnant and certainly not before the wedding. Simply to avoid all the extra nonsense that would result. So as far as anyone was concerned it had been an _"oncology"_ visit for him, not one to the ob/gyn for her.

He'd done it once before. With his first wife for the first visit and it turned out to be just as uncomfortable as he remembered. Guessed it was for all men, not that you ever really shared such stuff and he was determined it would be and could be different this time. The important thing was that Al was fine.

McCoy's brain switched back to what had the potential to be a difficult meeting with the senior ADAs. It was no secret in the office that he and Ron had been reviewing the various workloads across the various bureaux. And looking at certain individuals were either doing well or struggling.

"I've been thinking on the way here, Ron" he said "How about I take them through the first part and the general proposals?"

Carver looked up a little startled "If you want. You know there's some will hate it and you"

"Mostly the ones who hate me already" McCoy shrugged "No I'll be the bad guy and then you can step in as _Mr Reasonable_ and smooth the feathers. You're better at that than me. Everyone knows it"

Ron laughed. It was true either the Irish or something in McCoy got his dander up on occasions and it did not always pay to be in range when he was like that.

_**Interview Room 1, SVU, Manhattan**_

Any apparent _"delay"_ in Eames seeing Father Pool again was unavoidable. She had been waiting for Captain Chater to have the opportunity to see Richard Pike and that had been dependent on a medical clearance. It had turned out to be a fruitless exercise since he had invoked his right to silence on everything. Including the charges relating to Jesus Castillo. Not in either of their opinions the best option and it would seem, not the preferred strategy of his lawyer.

The other reason was that under his bail conditions Pool was staying at some church facility upstate, needed the approval of the court to go further than a prescribed distance and that all had to be fitted with the availability of his lawyer and Monsignor Miller. He was acting both in a _"pastoral"_ role and as the Bishop's eyes and ears on developments.

Eames sat the three of them down and first took them through the events in Phoenix. Inevitably some word had got to them via the Church network, but she wanted them to get it first hand and have the chance to see the letter Pike wrote.

"It doesn't entirely help you Father Pool" she said "But I spoke with the ADA after we and Phoenix did some extra checking. We will not be adding any murder charges to the indictment"

"I should hope not" growled the lawyer.

Eames' look told him he was not helping.

"However" she went on "They do intend to proceed on all the other charges which you have already admitted to"

"We assumed so Lieutenant" said Miller.

"Which is where you come in Monsignor. We have in his own hand Richard Pike's admission to murder and so far he's made no attempt to retract that. I take it that releases you from that part of any obligation Father Pool?"

"Yes it does" said the priest "I can now make a statement or whatever to that...that he told me in a confession he killed two boys...Andrew and Juan. But what I cannot do is add to what he has written...tell you anything else he said...any details or of any other crimes he might have committed"

Eames almost felt sorry for the man and she had no idea of the sort of confessions priests usually heard. But she doubted few, if any, had to sit through the things Mark Pool must have heard that day from his mentor.

"A question I must ask. Did you have any idea of what Pike had done before he told you?"

Pool looked to Miller before he answered.

"None at all Lieutenant Eames. When he asked for confession, which he had done once or twice before, I expected much the same sort of thing. Nothing like...not the things he said to me...and after that he asked me, begged me to help him"

"You feel he tricked you into complicity"

"On reflection? Yes. And please believe me when I say I urged him to go to the authorities. Used every moral and religious argument I could"

"You could have walked away Father Pool" Eames said quietly.

"I'm not sure it's your job to pass comment like that" said the lawyer.

"Maybe not but I have no doubt it's something a judge will consider when it comes to passing sentence"

"I know that" said Pool "But thank you Lieutenant. I am prepared for that and don't expect...don't deserve any consideration"

At the end she was left thinking it was one of those you would have to let go without being sure you ever really understood. And, unlike Goren, Eames had never found that too difficult.

**Monday 8****th**** March**

_**Vehicle Inspection Area, CSU, Manhattan**_

The three trainees watched and listened as their instructor demonstrated and passed on things he had learned over the years when it came to finger printing a vehicle. The kind of practical experience which was not in the manual. He gave them two hours and then left them to it.

Firstly they divided it up between them and concluded that since the _Town Car_ had not been positioned over an inspection pit, they need only concern themselves with what they could reach. Then they set to with soft brushes and powder.

**Wednesday 10****th**** March**

_**St Luke's Place**_

It was the first time that year it had been warm enough and light enough when Goren got home for he and Joel to play in the garden for a while before dinner.

Caro watched them fondly from the kitchen. The leg of Daddy's pants was a favourite thing for their son to use for his attempts to stand and walk and, unlike some others, not as potentially dangerous. The trouble was, without one of them to hold his hands; his legs would not yet do what he wanted them to. Would turn at all angles instead of moving forward and inevitably he took the occasional tumble that scared him into a brief wail. But she did not think it would be long before he got the standing part right at least.

Rob had come home with the news of an offer from the Academy for him to continue after his secondment was over. Subject to him passing the exams and approval for Lieutenant they expected him to complete by July. The first part should be no problem, whatever he said. Nor would they make an offer like that unless they knew the confirmation was already lined up and would go through.

That he was going to turn it down was no surprise at all. Caro was sure his little adventure with Alex had only confirmed what was right for him to spend his life doing.

She knocked on the window and when they both looked over, she held up five fingers. Daddy knew what it meant and Joel just gave her a wave back. They really were so alike at times it was scary. And the realisation for her earlier that day, that another playmate for them would be a little longer in coming, was no bad thing.

**Friday 12****th**** March**

_**NYC Police Academy, E 20**__**th**__** Street**_

Danny Ross slid into the back of the room, hoping not to be seen and knowing he should have checked with Goren first. But since he was here he might as well sit through one of the occasional lunchtime talks open to all cadets.

At the front, Goren was full of that ill at ease twitchiness Ross had seen before with large groups and if months at the Academy had not cured him of it, he guessed nothing ever would. It was that nervousness or maybe self consciousness meant he turned to the wrong board and diagram and probably explained why he tapped the wrong key on the laptop. Treating the whole room to a picture up on the screen of Goren Jnr at the beach.

"Aaaw he's so cute" said a woman at the front.

"I...um...yes...thank you...but moving on and if I can...okay then as you see from this slide..."

From then he was away and running. No question knew his stuff, spoke without notes, encouraged questions which he handled without losing the thread and soon held everyone in the palm of his hand. Even Ross would have been willing to admit he both learned something and was strangely charmed by the guy.

Not a feeling Ross could say he'd had many times before, when Goren's mercurial side could drive him completely nuts. As much his own fault for listening to gossip, believing Bobby needed to be actively led and thinking himself the man for that job.

Ross waited for most of the room to clear before making his way to the front.

"Oh hello Captain"

"Good talk Bobby"

"You heard it?"

"Uhuh. What seems to be your problem?"

"Can't get this thing to shut down"

"Here let me have a try"

It took them three combined attempts and one minor panic they had erased all the pictures of Joel, before they succeeded. But they both learned something.

For Goren, that it was possible for Ross and he to get something right together.

And for Ross, that being alongside Goren might be a whole lot easier than trying to lead the man.

"Come on Bobby. I'll buy you lunch. Something I want to talk to you about"

_**To be continued...**_


	38. Chapter 38

**Tuesday 16****th**** March**

_**SVU, Manhattan**_

"Got a moment boss?"

Eames looked up to see Tutuola laden with as many different things as she had often seen Goren.

"Sure. What case is this?

"The Giambi murder" he told her re-arranging some papers.

"Got a call from CSU this morning. They did a routine process of a stolen limo found in New Jersey. They got a hit on three sets of prints. Two were a couple of female city employees but the third was one of the sets of the unknowns from Lydia's apartment"

Eames sat up "The ones from the kitchen or the bedroom?"

"Bedroom" replied Finn "Now the print was found in the rear, consistent with a customer and the Lincoln is only three months old"

"So you talked to the limo company and did some checking..."

Finn shrugged a little coyly and handed over a list where he had whittled down the potential numbers. Eliminated all the women to start with and all customers whose home addresses were out of state and were trips to and from the airports. Some, Eames could see by his notes, were set aside because of other factors. Two quite elderly men and one who records revealed was in jail at the time Lydia Giambi was killed. She could not fault the assumptions he'd made.

"This is really good Finn but..."

"Look at the name top of the second page and think movies"

Eames grinned "I see what you mean"

"Not just that Lieutenant, our buddy Luke used the phone while he was in the car for most of one afternoon. He called three numbers. His home up in Riverdale, his swanky real estate office on the Upper West Side and Lydia's extension number at _Gibbs and Hardy_"

Tutuola handed her a photograph from the bar mitzvah which identified a man in the background as _"Luke Hardy". _He also gave her a copy of a driver's licence. No question it was the same man but a different name.

"So which is his real name?" she frowned.

"The one on the licence. He's Andrew Hardy's step-son. Has been since he was three years old. But his name was never changed"

Eames nodded "And whoever identified him in this picture from the hotel lobby either didn't know that and assumed he was legally Hardy, or it was a... habit to refer to the boss's kid by that name. Have a cup of coffee while I call Novak and we arrange to have his Riverdale ass hauled in here"

**Wednesday 17****th**** March**

_**Office of The Captain, Major Case**_

Ross frowned and looked up to see what was causing the sudden noise, including some whistling, outside in the bullpen. Then he saw Goren's head above the rest and concluded he should have known.

Half of those who were not tied up were rising from their desks to renew old acquaintance like he'd come back from the dead, whilst the other half were studiously ignoring him. Nothing new there then.

And by the time he reached Logan's desk, Ross understood the reason for the whistles. Goren was in his full _"dress"_ blues.

Ross rose to break it up and gesture him in.

"Have you got...um...?"

"Yes" said Ross waving to a chair "On your way to a parade?"

"Er...yes"

He watched Goren sit down unsure where to put the cap which had been under his arm. The man had still not decided by the time he spoke again.

"And this" he gestured to the uniform "Is why I'm here...one of the reasons"

"And why you turned down permanent assignment to the Academy?"

"You heard huh?"

"Yes Bobby. One reason I'm sitting behind this desk"

Goren's mouth twitched "I know you wanted the answer by the end of the week so as I was passing..."

Ten minutes later Ross stood up, they shook hands and Goren went to leave.

"You're forgetting something Goren"

The Captain tossed him the cap and as Bobby left, wondered how long it would be before that weasel Mac Oliver found a reason to drop in on some pretext.

_**Bridal Dreams, 75 West 29**__**th**__** Street, Manhattan**_

As Jean Paul zipped up the side of her gown, Eames was just glad their wedding was only three days away, not three months and they had opted for Spring not Summer.

"Juth a moment" said Jean-Paul "Before you look let me pin your hair up a little"

She waited while he did so and fussed the skirt a little more.

She turned and looked at herself imagining her hair as it should be.

"It's lovely, just what I wanted" she said.

"My pleathure" he replied dabbing his eyes with a tissue.

_**The Bona Fide, Meade Street**_

McCoy and Carver had avoided the lunchtime rush at a popular dining spot and watering hole for the legal community. Had they not done so, their _"working lunch"_ would have suffered a steady stream of interruptions. People wanting to speak to the DA or his Executive Deputy about some case or other they rarely knew anything about anyway.

Some offering invitations to events neither man would probably wish to attend. Others promising they must _"catch up"_ for some ill defined purpose and, in a few cases, seeking to impress colleagues. Demonstrating that Ron, Jack or both knew them and their name. They had honed their skills at pretending they did very well.

McCoy sleeves rolled, shrugged in response and chewed. And idly wondered just how many pairs of cufflinks Ron owned as a pristine white shirt sleeve, fastened at the wrists, reached over to pour them both more iced water. In a sartorial contest Ron would win without trying every time and Al maybe had a point when she once said _"some men can wear clothes Jack, you can't"._

"If Ben wants that in exchange Ron, let him have it if that's what it takes. We done?"

"Yes" said Carver slowly.

He was not in disagreement with any of the concessions and compromises they had made to drive through their plans. It represented a very significant re-structuring of the office and been achieved without internal uproar or external interference.

"You look...puzzled somehow Ron"

"I'm just trying to work out how you kept certain forces out of this. Whether you got them onside or just didn't tell them"

"Bit of both" winked McCoy "And I could not have done it without you...really I couldn't"

"Thank you Jack"

"And look at it this way, if I don't run next time or you run against me and beat me, you will have _Hogan Place_ the way you want it too. Win-win"

"McCoy!" called a voice in a not too friendly tone.

"Oh hello Andy" said the DA.

"Never mind _hello Andy_. Would you mind explaining to me why that cop you are marrying wants to interview my son?"

"Yes"

"Excuse me?" snapped Hardy.

"Yes I would mind explaining if I had the faintest idea what the hell you are talking about. Which I don't"

"Are you telling me..."

"Andrew" said Carver quickly getting to his feet "You are telling this whole room your business. Now simmer down and if you want to continue this conversation, lower your voice"

Hardy stared at him a moment, hissed that he would probably report McCoy to _The Bar Association_ and stomped off.

Carver and McCoy looked at each other a moment.

"Do you know what he's talking about?" asked Jack.

They had long since removed his _"executive"_ powers in relation to all SVU cases anywhere in the city to Ron's ultimate decision and Hardy, or someone at his firm, should know that. But it didn't mean there was not an assumption of _"pillow talk_". And his and Al's in recent weeks had been wedding, baby, more baby and most recently, that he was to get his haircut and before..._the wedding._

"Not a clue" replied Carver "And I'm sure Andrew has two sons, neither of whom are lawyers. I take it..."

"Course not" muttered McCoy "Only thing Al has been asking me for days is where I booked our honeymoon"

"Where have you?"

"Safer you don't know. She carries a gun remember"

_**To be continued...**_


	39. Chapter 39

**Thursday 18****th**** March**

_**Interview Room 2, SVU, Manhattan**_

When they entered the room, neither Eames nor Tutuola were confident. It was just their lousy luck that late Tuesday afternoon when they were trying to track down Andrew Hardy's stepson, he had just flown up to Montreal with a couple of college buddies to see an ice hockey match.

And a warrant issued for arrest and questioning on suspicion of murder would probably take years to work its way through the extradition system if he elected not to return. Especially when murder could carry the death penalty in the State of New York.

Nor did it take a genius to work out that somewhere along the line Luke or his father would hear about it before the plane left Canada the next day. No surprise they got a call from one of Daddy's senior partners on Wednesday morning. To assure them his client would be returning to the USA that afternoon. And was more than willing to come to see them Thursday morning.

If he was guilty, Luke had over a month now to have answers to most questions or even _"arrange"_ an alibi. Perhaps with one of his _Zamboni _loving pals. He might not know what evidence they had _"against"_ him but he was mentally prepared.

Eames felt faintly ridiculous saying _"Good morning Mr Bond_" and quickly moved to the formalities. Even at that stage he and his lawyer were smoother than any suave British Secret Agent.

"How well did you know Lydia Giambi?" asked Finn.

"Not very. Was introduced to her one time I dropped by the office, may have seen her around the place and I think she was at a Christmas Party I attended briefly"

"Did you attend the bar mitzvah party for Joshua Gold?" asked Eames.

"No"

"Yet you were photographed there" she slid an enlargement of the picture across the table.

"Is this you or not?"

"Yes it is and I should explain. I did not attend the party because I was not invited. I was at the hotel to pick up my parents. We were going up to the house in Connecticut for the rest of the weekend"

"How long were you waiting around at the hotel?"

"Half an hour perhaps. These things tend to run late"

"Did you speak to Lydia in that time?"asked Finn

"I don't recall. Several people I recognised from the firm passed through the lobby. Said hello. Not sure I knew all their names"

The first moment of real discomfort came when Bond and the lawyer were confronted with the phone records from the limo company. He stumbled through some story about misdialling and opting to ask the woman who answered to pass a message onto his father. It was a patent lie and one his lawyer could see.

The second was in connection with the restaurant in New Jersey. Luke was startled the moment the name was mentioned and but said quickly he might have been there with a client.

"There is a resemblance between you and this man that the waitress identified as being in Lydia's company that night" said Eames knowing it was a stretch.

"That picture could be anyone of dozens of men Lieutenant Eames" said the lawyer.

"We intend to put your client into a line up"

Before Bond could recover from that unpleasant prospect Tutuola quickly asked "Were you ever in Lydia's apartment?"

"No"

"So your prints won't match ones we found there? On the inside of the drawer to a bedside table. The sort of place people might put their spectacles or maybe keep condoms"

Of course Finn had picked up on the fact Bond used spectacles to read, but the condom wrapper found only had Lydia's prints on it.

"And when you offer us or a court compels a DNA sample, it won't match this hair found in the bed will it?" added Eames "Strange it should be short and dark like yours"

"A word if we may?" said the lawyer.

The two detectives stepped outside.

"Now he's going to admit to an affair" muttered Eames as Novak joined them from the observation room.

"And when he does you are all but sunk Alex" she said going to the soda machine.

"Well that's helpful" growled Tutuola.

Ten minutes later they had a _"remorseful"_ admission to an affair and the _"justification"_ that the earlier lies had been to cover that up. To protect his wife and family and all the usual nonsense juries were inclined, more often than not, to accept.

And while figures could never be accurate because of the inherent secrecy, it was generally accepted that somewhere between 25 and 40 percent of ever married people cheated at least once in that time. Apply that to twelve married jurors and you could see why they seemed to _"buy"_ that as explanation for cover up, lies and other suspicious behaviour.

"Why didn't you come forward when Lydia was killed?" asked Eames.

"Are you mad Detective?"

"No. We would have treated the matter in confidence, it would have saved a lot of time and public expense and I would say the chances of your wife finding out are far greater now"

"When did you last...um...visit Lydia at home?"

"Friday evening"

Eames could have groaned. Bond had put himself there close enough to her time of death to explain away anything else they had up their sleeve and of course he knew which night she died. And the medical evidence was unlikely to be able to narrow the timeframe for when Lydia last had sex.

"You're sure you didn't make a mistake? That it was Saturday night?"

"It was Friday, Lieutenant. Saturday I was at a Rangers game with several friends"

Eames had little doubt that alibi would hold up.

"Did you argue that night?" asked Tutuola.

"No"

"Did you break up with her or she with you?"

"No it wasn't that kind of thing. It was sex that's all"

"For you maybe Luke" Tutuola went on.

"But we've got people who will say she took relationships seriously. Was intense about them. Maybe she pressured you to split up with your wife or threatened to tell her?"

That was the moment Eames was sure from the look in Bond's eyes. She knew what led things to get out of control. That was what his motive was, but a cop's instinct about a look was not something Novak could put in front of a jury.

"I did not kill her" he said.

"And that's all we are going to say" said the lawyer.

That was the moment they needed to re-group.

_**Observation Room, SVU**_

"He did it" muttered Finn looking through the glass.

"So break his alibi or find me some other way to prove it" replied Novak.

"He's got no priors for assaults against women. The affair sinks all the forensic evidence and I can assure you he'll be advised to make a full statement and give you a DNA sample for the record"

"I can hear Daddy's pal saying the words, _for elimination when you find the real killer,_ right now" muttered Eames.

Novak picked up her bag "See you next time and let's hope it's a stronger case"

With that she was gone.

"I hate lawyers"

"All of them?" enquired Finn.

"Most of them" Eames smiled "Tough Finn. You did a great job on this...wouldn't have got this far otherwise...time and breaks just not on our side"

"I'll finish up here boss"

_**To be concluded...**_


	40. Chapter 40

**Saturday 20****th**** March**

_**The Oak Suite, Sherman Hotel, Central Park South**_

The guests had all been greeted and seated and his younger brother, who was his best man, had escorted his future parents in law last into the room. The final thing McCoy saw before the staff closed the doors was Bobby and Caro seated at the back less Joel start to fuss.

Not that he or Alex planned for this to take too long and with luck, pulling on his father's ear, would keep Goren Junior amused.

And suddenly he was alone in the wood panelled hallway. Waiting. Waiting for Al and still hoping that this was the right thing to be doing. Not for him, but for her. He had not a moment's doubt in the months since he asked her to marry him and he never really sensed she had. That week before she went to Arizona and was acting a little strange was explained on her return, with the news she was expecting their child.

He'd messed up before, was determined not to mess up again and with Al he was sure he had the best chance. A woman who did not need a man to validate her, McCoy sometimes wondered why she bothered with him at all.

He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of the door to the left opening.

"Here thee ith" announced that strange guy from the bridal shop.

Al, a little self conscious and hesitant, looked stunning.

And would have done to him if she had turned up in her uniform, instead of that elegant and understated dress. If she was wearing a baseball cap rather than having her lovely hair up and just a few delicate flowers pinned into it. And whilst he would prefer her to be carrying a small posy he could not have cared if it was her gun. Though that would cause alarm in the wedding room.

"You look..." he was lost for words.

"Ridiculous?" she asked as the dress man went to the doors to give them some privacy.

"You know Al?" he said softly "That answer is one of the reasons I love you so very much"

"I know and I hope you know..." she trailed off choked with emotion she rarely showed.

"Yeah I do. You ready to go do this?"

"Why not?"

She put her right arm into his left and held tight to it.

**Sunday 21****st**** March**

_**Guggenheim Museum, Fifth Avenue**_

Danny Ross was there with his younger son who had a school project to do when his cell phone rang. He checked the number and saw the roll of the eyes from his kid. That yet another one of their precious times together was going to be _"messed up"._

Needless to say it was Dick Nichols with the news some guy called _Luke Bond_ had been shot at his office on the Upper West Side two hours ago. Apparently by his wife.

_And why was this one for Major Case?_

Because the victim's father was a hot shot lawyer already raising hell with anyone and everyone he could get hold of. And because the victim had recently been accused of killing his mistress by SVU and the father was implying they were somehow to blame. Bullshit according to Don Cregan but sometimes you had to..._yardy yarda..._and who was the best detective to send?

Ross thought for a moment. Logan and Wheeler were far too close professionally and personally to people at SVU, so he scrubbed them. It would salve Mac Oliver's bruised ego since he'd confirmed the rumours were true, but he wanted Goren in that role. That probably made it ten times worse for Oliver and since he never got on with Alex Eames because he could not stand her partner, he'd hardly be neutral.

He went with Tom Lane. He was the ideal person to calm things down and if he felt aggrieved, though he didn't show it, entrusting this one to him was a signal he was still valued.

The Chief of Detectives agreed and Ross was able to go and rejoin his son quite quickly.

Thinking come the fall, Goren could take a share of this kind of shit.

**Wednesday 24****th**** March**

_**Central Criminal Court, London**_

Eames looked up to the dome and the bronze figure of _Lady Justice_ on the top.

"So why do they called it _The Old Bailey_?"

McCoy looked up from the guidebook "Because this street we are on is called Old Bailey. There's been a court in this area since fifteen eighty something but this version is on the site of an old prison called _Newgate_"

"Fascinating" she muttered "Is it this way to St Paul's? Only I'd like to eat before we visit"

"Uhuh"

McCoy's head was back in the book. And her hunger aside, Eames felt they had spent enough time exploring legal architecture. Earlier they went to _"The Inns of Court"._ She had expected old pubs or something to do with royalty.

Instead, it turned out to be the offices and gardens of the equivalent of _The_ _Bar Association_. Very old and attractive they were, but she still didn't understand why the Brits couldn't just call it that. Or why they needed four of these _"Inns"_ at all.

At the corner she waited for Jack to catch up while she admired the view along the street to the Cathedral. The sign said _"Lugate Hill, City of London" _and Eames could not work out how there was an area _within_ the city _called_ "London", a separate "City _of _London". One which had its own police force and Mayor.

She crossed the street would only qualify as an alley in New York, to the opposite corner. Where she had spotted a pub called _"The Turnkey" _and a menu board outside.

"We're eating in here Jack" she took his hand and tried to pull him to the door.

"Why?"

"Because I can't wait to see what they bring when we ask for _a spotted dick_"

**_THE END...almost_**

**AN : **_"Spotted Dick" is a sweet, steamed suet pudding containing fruit, usually raisins but there is no pub called "The Turnkey" at that location_.

**AN : **_It would take pages to explain the administrative, historic and legal peculiarities that are puzzling Eames...try Google!_


	41. Postscript

_**Postscript**_

**Saturday 17****th**** April**

_**Vestry Street, Soho**_

Alex turned sideways in the mirror.

"No you are right Jack. We can't put off saying anything much longer. Now have you got the answers committed to memory?"

McCoy tossed the sports magazine onto the bed beside him with a sigh.

"_Yes we both are, doing great, no we don't mind which so long as the baby is healthy, twelve weeks, twentieth of October, we didn't decide names yet_...did I leave anything out...oh yeah...of course it was a bloody accident"

"I think you can skip the last part"

**Monday 19th**** April**

_**St Luke's Place, Greenwich**_

"Rob? Are you still standing outside the door?"

"No"

"Go away"

"I'm going"

She didn't believe him for one moment but physical endurance had its limits. Caro opened the pink and blue box as quickly as she could.

**THE END**


End file.
